Dead Certain
by Meg2
Summary: The much requested Eric POV that was used as the back story for Dead Wrong. This piece will not make sense to readers who have not read my prior story, Dead Wrong. Spoilers for all nine books.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N-** This POV was originally started back in June, as a writing exercise to try to define some of Eric's actions in _Dead Wrong_. Several readers have requested that I publish it. This story will make absolutely no sense whatsoever to you if you have not read _Dead Wrong_, so apologies to anyone who will have to read _Dead Wrong_ if they want to read this Eric POV. Readers will also note that just like in real life, partners look at things differently: events are sometimes either viewed differently or differing details are noticed. What's important to Eric may not match with the stuff that was important to Sookie and Sookie conveniently left out details of certain things in _Dead Wrong_, which is from her POV. The Eric POV was mostly finished before the final version of _Dead Wrong. _I have edited the POV in order to make it match up a little better but if there are still continuity errors, I apologize in advance. I had not written it for publication. But before you think that Pam's understanding of Sookie's departure from Bon Temps is one of those errors and send me about a million PMs, if you think Eric was going to spill to Pam about the real meaning of that note Sookie left behind, you are totally kidding yourself. And no, I didn't write a Pam POV for _Dead Wrong, _so please, please don't ask. LOL

The _Southern Vampire Mysteries _and _Sookie Stackhouse Series_ are the creation of Charlaine Harris. I hope she doesn't mind if I play with her characters for a while.

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**Dead Certain**

**February 2006**

"Live Better".

I stared at the note and felt colder than ever inside. I pulled it off the refrigerator.

She was gone.

Long gone. Nowhere even close enough that I could feel her, worn down as the bond was by more than an hour of searing pain and terror, all the pain that followed after that hour and a week and a half of emotional distress that I had felt but not really dealt with. The house was filled with her scent, her perfume. It was a hollow echo of her.

Pam's words came back to me. "You're waiting too long. Even if they're still here, you should go see her. She's not going to understand, Eric. She's not going to take you seriously. You're waiting too long. Amelia says she hasn't even mentioned the were. You should see her, call her. She's _not_ going to understand your distance and that it's to protect her. She will misinterpret it."

And that was before the fairies got her. Before I got her to pledge herself to me without explaining my intentions. Before I had sex with her and didn't tell her I loved her in English because she wouldn't tell me she loved me. Because of her fucking cautious appreciation. Her ambivalence. Her distrust of her feelings for me. Her distrust _of me_. She did not understand me. Of course, I gave her too little to understand and then it all fell apart. All because I was too proud to make the first move in the emotional revelation area, no matter how insecure I knew she was. I had hopelessly miscalculated it all. I left her alone for months, saw her three times and then I left her alone again assuming that fucking fairy great-grandfather of hers would actually have the ability to protect her if it was needed. I let her down, and she was horribly, horribly abused. There are vampires and fairies that wouldn't have survived what she has, I reminded myself. And did I do anything to make it better? Not a damn thing. Sure, I gave her blood. But I _said_ not a thing. I'd waited too long, yet again. And now?

She was gone.

I crumbled the page in my hand and turned to Merlotte.

"She's gone. She isn't anywhere near here."

Merlotte shook his head as if disgusted and said,

"You know, I think I noticed that. Can you even sense if she's okay? I mean, this just isn't like her. To just not even show up? To not call me? She was worried about making ends meet, Eric. Since Amelia moved out she was worried about her financial situation. It's not like she decided to take a vacation and forgot to tell me. She said you were married, right? Aren't you even _concerned_? Do you even give a damn about her? I was under the impression you did. What if the fucking fairy uncle got her? Jason said the uncle, or great-uncle, whatever he is, was still at large according to the Prince."

I registered the fact that Bill Compton had stiffened and looked rather taken aback by some of that. So she had told Merlotte we were married? Well, this was a surprise to me.

I paused for a moment considering Brigant's son. I was supposed to kill him if I found him, on Brigant's instructions. Taking instructions from a fairy… I shook my head still trying to take that one in. But I just didn't think it was his son. My gut instinct told me she'd left because she wanted to. She left to get away from all of this. From all of us. From me.

"I don't smell a fairy, or even a half-fairy. Did you, Merlotte? When you arrived did you smell anything unusual? No? I think she just took off."

I turned to Bill and just stared at him. He grimaced. He looked so gray and ill. Maybe even worse after Merlotte's little revelation.

"I got the last incoming call off of the phone in Octavia's room but it's actually from Fangtasia's dial out number," he said. "I can try to get her phone records. She left her cell phone but the most recent numbers there are from your phone and my phone, from the other night, and then from Merlotte's today. I'll see if I can get into the phone records for the house line. But I doubt I'll have anything until tomorrow."

"Try redial on the phones," I said.

"You sure? It's a risk because if she did call someone and they have her, they'll know we're on their trail and have more time to cover their tracks."

"Do it," I said soberly.

"I can try to make the call private and see if the redial will still work but it might erase the number.

"Just redial the number, Bill. Try the kitchen first and then the bedroom."

Compton picked up the phone in the kitchen and hit redial. We waited for the call to connect. The three of us leaned in to listen. Luckily, it went straight to voice mail.

"You have reached the voice mail box of Special Agent Sara Weiss. I am sorry that I am unable to take your call at this time. Please leave your name and phone number and I will return your call at my earliest convenience."

Bill looked at me. I looked at Sam, puzzled.

"That's got to be that FBI lady who was here questioning her about the bombing in Rhodes," Sam said "She was with some agent from Rhodes, asking about how Sookie found all those people. Tray Dawson said that Amelia and Octavia were all worried about their being onto Sookie. Could _they_ have just taken her?"

I still held the crumpled note in my hand. _Live Better_. All I could think of was that time when I had told her, less than a year before, when she was shot, that she must be living wrong. The time I was a real asshole. The time I'd basically threatened to kill her. When I was so angry that I didn't know why I felt the way I did about her that I threatened to kill the human that I loved. The human I wouldn't tell anyone, even myself, that I loved. Who _was_ mine, and now, was gone. My woman. The one I'd now evidently lost. And I had lost more than just the individual. I had lost… quite possibly everything. Yes, I was definitely going to be losing even more because of her and now I had gone and lost her on top of it. Everything was in shambles because of rescuing her. And I never should have had to be rescuing her in the first place. _Why had I ever even left her alone?_

Had the FBI taken her? My gut said no. My gut said that when she saw no way forward, like the true survivor she was, she made a path through the wall and went a different way. Something that I wholeheartedly understood and had done myself more than once. She had completely changed course and dropped everything to do so.

I looked at Bill and Merlotte. "Well, she either took off or the FBI or Dermot Brigant took her. But I'm betting she took off."

Merlotte looked at me as if I was clearly to blame. He glowered at me darkly, shaking his head. He thought I was one cold bastard.

"Like I said, it's not like she'd decide to take a vacation and forgot to mention it. Something happened to her. And I mean on top of what _already_ happened to her, which was bad enough. She was so upset yesterday after you left the bar. I caught her almost crying so many times after you left. What the fuck did you say to her? She really cared about you, you fucking asshole. I think she even loved you. Did you care about her at all?" He looked from me to Bill and then back to me. "You know, if she really took off, I say good riddance to the both of you. She's had nothing but trouble because of you people. Don't look to me to tell you a damn thing if she comes back." He strode out the front door of the house and slammed it after him.

_Sam Merlotte_ was telling me that the woman I had pledged myself to, had effectively married, really cared about me, loved me. Words that I had been unable to extract from her myself. I had thought she was inscrutable, playing games, that night I'd been with her. What did she want? What was the game? Did she hate me? Hate loving me? Pam had always said that she was just so insecure. I'd thought she was outwardly so cold, so distant that night we were together. But what I remembered from before, what I _felt_ in spite of everything, was that she loved me. And was afraid that she did. What had I done to make her less afraid? I remembered her taking care of me. Her kindness, her gentleness, her happiness. I remembered my… feelings… I had asked her to marry me. And she sent me packing back to my real life. Said it wasn't right. Pam had said for months that there was no way that I could repay how kind she had been to me. I kept waiting for her to try to extract something, _anything_ for what she had done. But she never did.

How many times had I flung her kindness back in her face with my arrogance or intimidation? Pam had gotten so disgusted with my attitude. Had told me that she was really just very insecure after everything with Bill Compton, that I misread her and that she returned the affection I did not want to admit I had. And then when I finally did remember, I had left her alone for months. I had… broken something. In her. In me. For more than a year, I had only made it worse. She loved me. And what had I done with that? I had fucked up the one thing that had made me happier than I had been in centuries. Maybe happier than I had ever been.

I looked over at Bill. "Get the phone records just in case," I said.

I looked at the crumpled note in my hand.

_Live Better_. It was clearly a message. A send off. She had had her fill. Spilled over the edges. Tipped over. Broken.

My fucking pride had finally really done it. Too proud to just set her straight on how I felt. Too proud to fight with her to keep her safe. Too proud to tell her the simple truth. And now?

She was gone.

I pushed the note into my pocket, strode out the door, and flew.


	2. Chapter 2

**II.**

**October 1, 2008**

I balanced on the balls of my feet on the ledge and stared in at her through the gauzy curtain. Her appearance was, as Bill Compton had warned me, very different. Dark red hair in short braids and very pale skin. Not even a trace of the tan she used to have. He said she wore contacts to make her eyes green but clearly she had taken them out for the night. It was 10 pm but she was wide awake, reading in her living room, with a cat leaning against her thigh.

I stood watching her and felt this warm stirring in my blood. She suddenly pulled up from her concentration on the page in her book and looked as if she was struck by something. She seemed to draw a deep breath and look around, though not at the window. She sank her head into her hands and rubbed her temples.

I was taken aback. She felt me, felt me here, nearby. _How could that be?_ We had been apart for so long. More than two years and a half since she had had even a drop of my blood. The geographic distance. _Time._ Perhaps she just sensed the voidness that she said she felt with vampires' minds?

I pulled myself back from her as much as I could, so that she could not feel _me_ specifically. She then looked around as if something had gone missing. I watched her rise and move restlessly toward the kitchen. I floated over and saw her pour herself a glass of milk and then again look around her. She finally glanced toward the window and I dodged away quickly. Could she still sense me so acutely? It had to be that she just felt the void spot.

I sat opposite her windows on a neighboring building and watched as she continued to read. As I sat massaging the joints in my fingers, the hours passed. 12 am, 1 am, 2 am, 3 am. She did not sleep. Odd that she stayed awake so late on a weeknight, I thought. She rose early according to the Were. Usually at 6 am. Finally, around 3:30 am, she rose and went to the bedroom. I floated outside the window and watched her disrobe. She was so thin. She'd easily lost twenty pounds.

What struck me most though, that night, was how utterly alone she was. Compton said she was not seeing anyone and could find no evidence that she had even dated at all. Her dance partner was gay, and even the friend from her work, and with whom she spent much time, was probably gay according Bill. Sure, she was totally alone in her apartment, except for the cat. But she _felt_ so alone. Even pulling myself back from her, I could still feel her. She was shut down and disconnected from everything.

She shut off the light and burrowed down into the covers.

Moments later, as I floated at the window, she turned the light back on and looked around the room. She shook her head and then turned the light back off and then stealthily walked to the window. I really wondered what she sensed. Could she sense _me? _I hung upside down above the corner of the window, where I would be hidden from view by her curtains. I looked down at her as she pulled back the curtains and looked out, as if looking for something. I felt distraction, puzzlement from her. Then, a feeling of resignation. She walked back and simply got back into the bed. But she turned on the light on the nightstand and left it on as she fell asleep.

I was amazed. How could this be? I asked myself again. It should have faded. Given what I knew, it should really have been gone. Especially given how resistant she was to any of the basic purpose of the bond. Sure, she'd had a lot of my blood, but even so… To me it felt as if the bond was as alive as if it had been forged yesterday. As if it had never been damaged. As if we had not been apart for years. And even though I held myself as tightly from her as I could, she still sensed it, looked for it. I'd never seen that before. Distance, time had not changed a thing. _How could that be?_ The only conclusion I could come to was that the bond itself was different, because of the feelings we'd had for one another.

I looked at her in the bed and remembered. Remembered her warmth, her hand in mine, her scent, her skin, her taste. I still did not understand what it was about her. What was it that made her so different to me? What made me feel… _feel…_ so differently about this one human. Everything that had haunted me for the past few years was right there in front of me. And it was still the same. Looking at her, I literally _craved_ her.

Even if I didn't understand all the reasons for the attachment, I was content.

All the pieces were ready, waiting just to be set in motion. For the first time in more than two and a half years, I had good reason to make my move, instead of just leaving and taking my people with me. And move I would.

She was still mine.

And it had to be safer to be mine.


	3. Chapter 3

**III.**

**May 2009**

As I entered the elevator with the glamoured building manager I glared at Andor and waved him away. Honestly, there were times that he made me so…

The doors slid closed.

We exited on the fifth floor. He opened the door to her apartment, disarmed the alarm and turned to look at me.

"Invite me inside, Wallace," I commanded.

He turned to me vacant eyed.

"Enter," he said in monotone.

I paused for a moment and then stepped through the doorway of her apartment and smiled. Her scent was everywhere. Everywhere. I felt this surge of expectation, of anticipation.

"Reset the alarm and leave," I said firmly.

After he was gone, I wandered through the rooms. The old quilt I had noticed the previous time I'd been here was still on the couch in the living room, as I'd seen it through the window that autumn night. Nothing else, not a single thing, in this apartment was from her former life. When I thought of all her attachment to her family and to those material things, it was rather astonishing. She had left everything. Everything except the quilt, which she had said long ago was her grandmother's. Evidently the grandmother, who had been murdered shortly after she had started dating Bill, was the only thing worth keeping.

I looked at her clothes in the closet. All her clothes were very different from what she used to wear. Professional but even more than that. Very covered. Very discreet. Looking at all the slacks, the long sleeved shirts, the ladies suits, I wondered if she was still very scarred. She hadn't looked it, though, when I'd seen her undress that night in October

As I glanced around I noted no indication of anything romantic in intent, not even anything feminine. No flowers, no perfumes, no candles, no lace. The room was almost spartan in comparison to what I remembered from her bedroom in Bon Temps. According to the Were she had not had a single visitor, other than her two friends from work, one of whom was female, in the almost two years that she had lived here. The bathroom cabinet had some makeup, a single bottle of perfume, Burberry London, a beige nail polish and a few toiletries. It, too, seemed spartan in comparison to what I remembered from her bathroom at home in Bon Temps.

I walked back out into the bedroom and looked at the tall bookcase, filled completely with books, running my fingers across the spines. Pam, I thought to myself, would be very pleased with her literary interests.

I stared at her bed and then sat down on it, picking up the pillows and inhaling her scent. She slept on the left side, I recalled from October. Amusing, since I always started out on the right side any bed and worked my way to the middle. I placed the pillow back on the bed and glanced around the room, which was so neat and orderly. I looked again at the tall bookcase, loaded with books. I had not recalled that she was so _much _of a reader. But she clearly had a lot of time on her hands, if she was alone much of the time.

Her cat came out from under the bed and jumped up on the bed, regarding me. Odd that the cat didn't seem to mind a vampire, I thought to myself. She began kneading with her paws, I reached out over her head and she leaned into my hand, purring. As I petted her, I glanced around the room again, taking in how different it all was from her house in Bon Temps. I sighed, rose and went to sit in the living room. It would be hours before she would arrive. It was only a little after 8 pm, after all and she had the book club tonight. The cat followed after me, her tail in the air as if I was a friend.

I sat on the couch and read, petting the cat. _The Economist_? The pages on foreign policy were well worn on each issue, with smudges from her fingers. I would have thought for certain that she would have fashion magazines, or celebrity rags, or anything other than this magazine. Even the book lying there… James Joyce, _Finnegans Wake_, was a surprise. It looked like she was almost halfway through it. A difficult book, _Finnegans Wake_. Had she changed so much, I wondered? How could she have changed so much and yet still felt so much the same to me back in October?

**

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**

The terror on her face and coursing through her was palpable. I was amazed. She was genuinely _afraid_ of me. I could smell it. But still, she would not shoot me, when she had every opportunity to do so. She had whipped that gun out of her bag amazingly fast, as if she certainly could use it. Her hand gripping that gun was about the only thing that wasn't shaking. I could feel her think about shooting me, then discard the idea, as if giving in to a fatalistic feeling that she was simply incapable of doing it. As I took the gun from her hands, I felt resignation from her, almost has I had back in the autumn. Giving up, giving in, a feeling as if things simply couldn't be made better, a hopelessness. She shook in my arms as if she was terrified. I kissed her cheek and she shuddered. In looking at her, I was stunned to realize that she really thought that I was there to _harm_ her. Yet she could have harmed me and tried to escape but had chosen to just give up instead. Even afraid of me, very obviously afraid, she could not bring her self to hurt me? As I put it on the counter, I looked at the Glock. Fifteen rounds, if I recalled correctly. Now _that_ would have really smarted, I thought to myself.

I hugged her and inhaled her scent and felt suffused with the pleasure of it. She still wouldn't meet my eyes with her own. But I was all eyes, all ears, for her. I looked at the pulsing of the veins in her neck, her forehead. Her scent was intoxicating. The urge to bite her, taste her, was so strong. And she seemed to sense it.

"How did you find me," she asked in a whisper, facing my chest but not looking up.

My eyes coursed over her hungrily. I found myself longing to look into her eyes but they lingered on her shuddering chest. She was just so afraid. I tried to coax her to relax, to no avail. I tried to reassure her, but she kept trembling. After a few more minutes of talking I finally succeeded in making her really annoyed, and then, at last, she was no longer so afraid of me. I smiled to myself. She had always been so easy to tick off or fire up. It was a good means of distracting her from her fear. I stood looking at all of her marksmanship badges, her FBI ID. She looked lean and muscular under her clothes. Strong. And an expert marksman? I was sure such things were not earned lightly in her present world. She had left Bon Temps a waitress and according to Bill and his investigative work, had succeeded in becoming what appeared to be a very highly valued FBI counterterrorism agent. The Were neighbor reported that she had traveled frequently, but would never discuss where she had been. She no longer gave off that aura of being young, green, and naïve. But I liked her like this. I didn't need her to be naïve. Even though I hated the hair, the fake eyes and was struck by the more slender build, the fashionable frame of the present era that I didn't really quite care for, I actually liked her more than ever. The fire in her eyes and her sarcasm were so delightful. She had always had so much character. She had managed to morph into this new persona with a degree of versatility that reminded me of… a _vampire_, I noted with amusement. Her entire presence was different, more confident. It was really quite amazing. Quite… attractive.

As I handed her back her ID she saw it. With that same odd ability to take in the details that Pam had, she took my hand, compared left with right and I saw the recognition dawn on her. I was so caught off guard. I had hoped she would never notice it at all and had even forbidden anyone to speak of it should she return. Instead, she had noticed it so much more quickly than I ever would have anticipated. She persisted in trying to find out the details. The horror and revulsion she felt when she grasped what had happened was overwhelming, touching, really. Her concern for Bill, and worry for Pam, for Maxwell. The only time I had seen her so distraught was after the fairies had her and she saw what they had done to Bill and to the Were. Her distress was so genuine and so deep that it was painful to see. Seeing how she took it, I was glad then, in the end, that she hadn't been there that March night. Yet, even as finally after more than a half an hour, she started to calm down, she was so cautious, so distrustful of my motives for being there. This, even though she was less afraid. At that point, however, most of my own thoughts centered on the pleasure I'd felt when she acknowledged being my wife. I felt such pleasure hearing her say the words.

After an amusing speech, in which she sounded in spite of all appearances to the contrary, so little changed from the woman I knew from before, I finally kissed her, even though she reeked of garlic. I felt as if everything that had been there three years before was still there inside her, unchanged. I wanted her as much as ever. And she seemed almost breathless. The way she looked at me… I tried not to let my eyes glow. _She still loved me._ Still, after three years, after all her anger over my failing to rescue her, after my never being able to explain it until tonight. After the caddish way I had behaved for all those months before, and the way I had neglected to explain things after the takeover, the reasons for keeping my distance so as to not attract further attention to her.

And what I felt in response to her, from her… It was a mysterious thing this bond I had made with her. Had it lasted _because_ of her? She had hated it. Distrusted it. Distrusted me. But looking at her, feeling her now, I could see only one thing. _She still loved me._ In that moment I was absolutely sure of it. I felt happiness just swell inside me. It had been years since I'd even looked at any other woman at this point. It was irrational, the feeling I had for her, I'd told myself so many times.

I no longer cared if it was irrational. My feelings just were what they were.

"Brush your teeth and I'll kiss you some more. Whatever you had to eat earlier had an absolutely inordinate amount of garlic in it," I said laughing. "You could knock over a horse, Lover."

"Middle Eastern food. Kind of a passion of mine now," she said taciturnly.

What good fortune for me, I thought ruefully…

She did not reach for her toothbrush. I picked it up and handed it to her. She looked at my eyes in the mirror's reflection guardedly.

"Not interested? You certainly seemed interested moments ago…" I asked with a smile.

"I just don't know that I think that's such a good idea," she said quietly.

I raised an eyebrow. I thought kissing her sounded like the best idea I'd probably had in about the past four or five months. And other than killing Felipe and Victor Madden and taking control of Louisiana, it sounded to me like the best idea I'd had in the past few years.

"Afraid you won't be able to stop yourself, eh? Don't worry Lover. I have you, I won't let you get too carried away."

I winked at her and handed her the toothpaste.

"You didn't answer my question," she said firmly, looking at my reflection without smiling.

Always with the suspicions… I stood behind her and, reaching around to tug the toothbrush out of her right hand and placed it in her left hand. Then I opened the toothpaste and placed it in her right hand and waited, still smiling. Finally, with a sigh, I guided her right hand to put the toothpaste on the toothbrush. I recapped the toothpaste, put it back where it had been and switched the toothbrush back to her right hand.

Still no.

I rested my chin on the top of her head and placed my hands at her waist, looking at our reflections. I rubbed my chin on her head, mussing up her hair a bit.

We locked eyes with each other in the reflection. I felt the pleasure of the connection, the smooth and soothing warmth of the blood between us. She had to feel it as well, I knew. Still, she said nothing, did nothing.

I sighed. Fine. I had had enough of being proud. It had already cost me enough, lost us enough time.

"Why am I really here? You are mine. Mine alone. I still love you. You, yourself, pointed out that you are my wife. It is, therefore, hardly surprising that I want you back. And I can assure you, you will be safe if you come home, Sookie. I am here because I want you to come home. I want you with me. I realize that will take time. But it's what I want and why I'm here."

She seemed struck by the words, wide-eyed, shallow breathed. Her lips parted but she did not speak. I heard her pulse increase. Other than that, the silence was deafening. But she couldn't disguise the burst of happiness I felt in her. I had finally, at long last, made her happy. Such a simple thing, those words. I had wasted three years and three months, at a minimum, for not having said them sooner.

We just stood there, staring into each other's eyes in reflection.

Finally, she wet the toothbrush and started brushing.

When she'd rinsed her mouth and put the toothbrush away, she started to slip by me. I took her into my arms and kissed her long and as gently as I could, all things considered. But I was so hungry for her. Just as she seemed on the verge of really enjoying it she pulled away, pushed me away from her and said,

"Okay, that's _enough_," in a firm voice even though she was breathing heavily.

As she turned and left the bathroom, I shook my head. _No one_ can push you away with quite the confidence that a wife can, I thought to myself, regretfully. This is something I clearly remembered from long, long ago. It was odd, really, to think that I remembered such a thing keenly. Literally, after so many centuries. It was like they knew they could always get more when they wanted it.

She walked through the bedroom and took some clothes out of a dresser. I caught her hand to slow her at an opportune moment and she looked up at me, glanced down at the bed and then back at me and said with narrowed eyes,

"Clearly, you're delusional."

I erupted into laughter.

"Maybe just a bit presumptuous? Or perhaps I just have very, very pleasant memories."

"Or perhaps you're looking to get an invitation rescinded?"

I drew back slightly. Was she _serious_?

"I came to talk to you, Sookie. Just to talk. With no other expectations," I clarified in a serious tone. I was, frankly, already ahead of plans with two kisses, even if one of them was really garlic-laden. "I was just being playful."

"Well, you can take your _playful _self to my living room and sit on the couch while I change."

I walked out toward the living room. I took her unfinished drink from the kitchen and put it on a coaster on the coffee table near where I was sitting. The cat came right back over and insisted that I pet her. Quite a demanding animal, I thought to myself as she purred loudly.

She came back out in a dark navy sweatshirt that said US Marine Corps, and matching sweatpants. Her hair was up in a ponytail and every trace of makeup was wiped from her face. But I smiled, because she had taken out the contact lenses.

"I'm glad to see your real eye color. Your natural eyes are much prettier than the contact lenses, Lover."

"Uh huh, yeah," she said, as if very unconvinced, pulling her drink to the opposite side and corner of the coffee table and sitting in a chair she'd pulled over from her dining table. "What's new in Shreveport and Bon Temps?"

I answered as truthfully as I could without telling her my excellent news that I knew would get her very tense. I could already see that it was going to take quite a lot of work, even to get her to visit. She was so very suspicious of me. Gradually, I steered the conversation toward her work, which seemed to be a safer topic for the present.

"So where do you a travel for work? You travel a lot it seems."

"I really don't want to get into that."

"Bill says that you're an interrogator. How does that work if you don't even speak the language of the people you're interrogating?"

I let her talk on about the mechanics of her work. It seemed to set her at ease. And it was actually really interesting. She was probably very good at it. She had always been a sharp observer and she definitely seemed much more sophisticated now. More worldly. She was very careful with her words and with what she told me. Quite measured. She was no longer afraid but seemed watchful. She seemed to study me as if taking in a lot of non-verbal information. Still quite tense but, in general, much more at ease over all, even with that baseline of tension. It made me wonder for just a moment what the people she interrogated might be like that she had perfected this manner.

"Well, I was obviously ahead of the curve, getting you to interrogate people without torture long before the federal government had the idea," I said with a smile.

"Well, Eric, they didn't have a telepath before. They only had their charming waterboarders, at least if I'm to believe my boss's boss. Besides, they probably didn't even really believe in telepathy before. Frankly, I'm not sure sometimes that my boss's boss believes me unless I get really nasty and read him. I have to do that every once in a while to remind him that what I do is real."

I smiled. "Two years ahead of them, and a true believer," I said with a smile

As it grew closer to midnight she seemed restless.

"Well, I don't mean to be rude but I have to be up at 6 am. Tomorrow's a work day and I have to be sharp. I'm doing a Krav Maga session at 7:30 am and if I'm not well rested I'm going to get totally beaten up by my instructor."

I drew out my cell phone.

"I want your email address."

She hesitated, looked at me silently.

"Your _personal_ email address. I already know your work email address, I'd just prefer not use it. Bill is really quite thorough," I said with a bit of a smirk.

She made a slight face and shook her head a bit. She bit her lip and then said,

"It's sms0701 at yahoo dot com. But I want to know…"

I cut her off.

"So your initials and your birthday at yahoo dot com, right? Do you have Skype?"

"Um, I don't but really …"

"Where's your laptop. That was a laptop bag you walked in with, right? Do you have an internet connection here?"

She looked at me cautiously but rose and got the laptop and then plugged some sort of dongle to a USB port on her computer and a wireless USB modem into that. She set the computer down on the coffee table after logging into it.

"Why Skype?" she asked.

"Is it okay to download the program onto your computer? It's an easy way to stay in touch. No matter where you are. Better than calling your cell phone number. Which I also have, by the way. Because we'd get to see each other when we talk, which I'd enjoy immensely." I smiled at her.

"Is there anything you _don't_ have? Would you like my shoe size?" she said making a face.

"It's a 7. I told you that earlier. I remembered that from before, though. You have small feet for your height," I said starting to download the program. "It's downloading. Undergarment sizes? I really didn't want the Were getting that personal," I said playfully. "But it's nice to know for giving… gifts."

"None of your damn business. And Ben Stephens is going to find himself in a world of trouble before I'm done with him. He's in serious trouble with me and will be shortly with the Justice Department. He's a traitor as far as I'm concerned. When I'm done with my complaint he won't have clearance to take out the shredded trash from this building."

"He didn't do anything to harm you, Sookie. Actually, it's safer to have him here and aware of the fact that you might need protection."

"Protection from _what_, Eric? I don't need protection. It's one of the great things about living here and working for the FBI. No one has beaten me, shot me or tortured me for years. And I'm really not missing any of that, let me tell you."

I recoiled internally. I had _not_ kept her safe was clearly the message. I was never likely to forget it.

"Nothing like that is ever happening to you again, Sookie," I said firmly meeting her eyes. Not if I had anything to say about it. "Here, the program's done downloading. Let's install it and we can try to see if we can get it working with my contact info."

She looked at me as if she was going to give me some snappy comeback about the safety issue but thought better of it. Actually something in her face clouded and then softened as she continued looking at me. She looked away finally and changed the topic back to Skyping.

"And I'd be doing this Skype thing because….?"

"It's always a good idea for spouses to stay in touch. Relationships really don't survive well when the partners don't have regular contact. Perhaps you just haven't had enough experience with them to know this? You'll have to trust me on that. Three years is really testing the limits," I said wryly.

"Yeah, I'm trusting to your having had plenty of experience. Right. I'm surprised you didn't get it annulled, or did that involve annulling _me_? Seriously, Eric… What do you want? Why are you even here? Do you want me to work for you or something? Because really, I'm thinking that is totally not happening. I'm like a multi-million dollar investment of tax-payer money at this point. I really can't just go back and start attending summits in my free time or interview people in your bar if they stole from you, okay? I'm sorry but I can't risk blowing my cover and having anyone find out who I am now. Maybe you should try to ask Stan about Barry. I can't do that without someone at Justice getting wind of it and I'm not in the business of causing Barry any trouble if he wanted to be hard to find. But Barry's okay, you know? He's quite competent and I know he could do what I used to do. I'm sure if Stan can find him, you could politely convince him to do whatever it is that you really need as long as you're fair."

I ignored the snarky remarks. "Do you want the polite list, or the short list. It's 11:50 pm and you said you wanted to sleep."

"Of what? List of what?"

"Of what I want."

She rolled her eyes, shaking her head ever so slightly and then frowned at me.

"I'll take the short list."

"For you to move back to Louisiana and for me to wake up next to you in my bed. Every night."

She didn't even blink and her expression didn't alter. But I felt this jolt from her.

"What's the _polite_ list?"

"I'd like you to agree to visit me. I've missed you and I want you to come home. Pam misses you and wants you to visit. You'll enjoy being home. There are other things I'd add but you haven't appeared to be in the mood to hear them as yet. With either list, I'll make it worth your while to visit, however. And you'll be safe."

"There seems to be a huge difference between the short list and the polite list. The short list appears rather narrow in its focus if you ask me."

"I admit that I have a definite agenda, Lover," I said with a smile. "I envision the final outcome, with either list, to be the same."

She was silent, leaning back in her chair, arms crossed, regarding me. I checked the connection on Skype with my phone and nodded when I got it to go through.

"Are you free tomorrow night?" I asked her. "You don't usually go out on Fridays, right?"

She guardedly asked, "Why, what do you have in mind?"

"I would like to come back to see you tomorrow. I need to be home on Saturday. But I'd like to see you again tomorrow night. I can stay until midnight or 1 am."

She looked at me carefully. At first I had the feeling that she was wondering whether it was safe to have me come back the following night. But in the end, she was actually more concerned about my safety.

"Where do you stay here in Virginia? In a hotel?"

I thought carefully about how to reply.

"I'm staying in a private residence."

She seemed to hesitate slightly. She looked down, frowning and then looked up at me.

"And you're sure it's safe? It's such a conservative state. There's kind of an element of… I just… you're really sure it's safe there, right?"

Her face was actually clouded with worry. Pam would be saying she was such a peculiar human if she were here, I thought to myself. She was still acting less than thrilled I was here but was worried about my safety? It was amusing, considering more than a thousand years of experience at staying safe, but still, I was going to choose to be pleased that she cared, rather than sarcastic in my reply.

"I'm sure. I'm fine, don't worry." The King's compound, as a courtesy. With two very large guards, one of whom I've known for a thousand years and who is now seriously concerned that I've finally lost it. "Tomorrow night?" I pressed.

She pulled her legs up onto the chair and looked at me, resting her chin on her forearm which she propped on her knees. After more than a minute, in which I could feel her alternating through several emotions, she was still hesitant. I tried to send a strong emotional tug toward her. She appeared to let it wash over her almost without reaction. Almost. Because something in her eyes showed that she knew exactly what I was doing. She frowned ever so slightly, looked away and then sighed.

"Okay. I was actually planning to go to a movie with my friend and her husband, but I'll beg off. I'll be here by sunset, okay?"

I smiled.

"Consider it a date, Lover."

"I'll consider it you coming over for more talk. _Not _a date," she said soberly.

"As long as I can kiss you, you can call it whatever you want," I said with a playful grin.

Those aquamarine eyes looked at me with distrust.

I rose and then pulled her to her feet. It was 11:57 pm I noted glancing at her kitchen clock. I kissed her hand.

"Sleep well, my Lover."

I leaned over and kissed her on the lips, which stayed firmly closed as my tongue ran over them. I didn't break off the contact of our lips. Instead, I put my arm around her waist and pulled her closer, pressing her into me. She finally relented.

After a long kiss, during which she began to shudder in my arms, I pulled away.

"Until tomorrow," I said softly.

She nodded, silently.

**

* * *

**

I enjoyed the following night more. She still would not sit next to me but I managed to make her laugh. She was more relaxed, joking with me, more playful. She had gotten me several bottles of True Blood and made jokes about fairy-spiked ones and that their price was simply outrageous considering the blood had to be badly out of date at this point. About an hour before I left I asked her to sit next to me, instead of so far away.

She looked at me almost sloe-eyed.

"No," she said, shaking her head.

"Why?"

"Bad plan."

"Why is it a bad plan to sit next to me?"

"Because… I just don't feel comfortable, Eric. We haven't seen each other in a very, very long time. We were friends and I…"

"I pledged myself to you Sookie. We were more than friends. Much more than friends. We're lovers. You are bound to me, pledged to me," I paused as I saw her shift nervously, felt her feeling almost a kind of panic. Even though her face didn't completely reveal it, she seemed as if she was on the verge of tears. I was unraveling her neat and orderly world. And in spite of everything that she had built for herself, a new life, an entire new way of being, she was so fragile, I realized. So very fragile. I could feel it. In some ways she seemed so much more mature or worldly, but in others… I was mindful of Pam's analysis. Bill broke her trust with his subterfuge and betrayal, but that I had broken something far deeper inside her. It would take time to rebuild it all. _So fragile_… I reminded myself.

I nodded. "It _has_ been a long time," I said softly. "But I don't think that the fundamental things between us have changed. Not really."

"Well, I guess I'm not exactly seeing how that's a good thing, then. As I recall for about the last year that we saw each other, we weren't exactly happy campers," she said looking at me as if replaying some of that in her mind.

"We weren't. But it doesn't change what I feel. What we feel. I stand by what I told you last night. I still love you. I would like you to come back home to visit. I will keep you safe if you do so."

She gazed at me as if trying to take in my words and decipher what they really meant. She did not reply.

"Did you try the Skype?" I asked changing course slightly.

"Yeah, I set up a whole bunch of contacts, actually. Friends from work and such. And I got to Skype this interpreter I know in Spain, which was actually pretty cool. I like it. You're right, it's really nice." Her face had brightened.

"Then we'll be able to stay in touch. Either around sunset or around dawn, since you get up so early."

She looked at me and her face was instantly all cloudy and brooding again. She glanced away.

"I just don't…" She stopped, sighed. "Fine."

She rose and collected the empty bottles on the coffee table and headed to the kitchen. I moved after her, but tried not to be too swift, not wanting to unsettle her. Tonight she was wearing black jeans and a plain powder blue sweatshirt. She had pearl stud earring in her ears, evidently worn to work. She hadn't removed her makeup as she had the previous night. She had removed the contact lenses, though, I noted with interest.

After rinsing the bottles and leaving them at the edge of the sink, she turned around and I pulled her gently toward me. I leaned back against the counter and with my hands at her waist just looked her. She glanced away and shuddered slightly, then closed her eyes. I raised her chin and kissed her, eventually tangling my hand in her hair. We kissed for just slightly longer than the previous night. But then she pulled back, pushing herself away from me with a hand on my chest. Silently, she left the kitchen and went to go sit back out in the living room, in her chair. I pulled out another chair, positioned it next to hers and sat down, placing my arm across the back of her chair.

"Tell me what you think of _Finnegans Wake_," I said softly.

She took a moment to reply, seeming to absorb the fact that I was determined to be near her. But she didn't get up or shift away from my arm.

"I've never read anything like it. It's hard to read, but I like some parts of it. I like the dreaming parts of it. He captures the feeling of dreams. Sometimes he's funny in a very dark way. But I guess I don't really exactly like the book overall. It's very… chaotic."

"You read a lot?"

"Yeah. I do. You like to read too, don't you? As I recall, anyway."

"Very much. I don't care much for Joyce, though."

"Eric, I really don't get what it was that you wanted to accomplish by coming here."

I shifted my arm, took out my cell phone and emailed her the new short list.

"I sent you an email. With the short list. You used to have a much better memory. In fact, I'd have to say that it was a bit too retentive. Of course, it may be my luck that you won't remember what I want you to remember, like why I came here for instance, but that you will remember what I wish you could forget."

"What do you want me to forget?"

"Lately my mind often lingers on the pleasant manner I showed with you that time you were shot and Mickey was after your friend."

She turned and looked at up me, keeping her face expressionless.

"You must be really adept at the interrogation business. You're quite good at the poker face, aren't you? But still, I can _feel_ that it was one of my finer hours there, wasn't it? I know there were some others that I really shined in as well," I said acerbically. Of course, she'd had her own moments. But still, after I had remembered, _really_ remembered, it was frankly almost embarrassing to think of how I had behaved. A lot of times I was just angry because I didn't understand why I felt the way I did. But that specific time she'd been shot, on top of it. Really, when I looked back on the number of things that had happened to her, I had to question what would want to make her set foot in the state again. I'd have to be my most persuasive.

Her phone beeped off in the kitchen where she'd left it charging. She rose to get it and returned, scrolling through what I guessed was her private email. She paused a moment and laughed out loud as she read it.

"Down to a _single_ item?" she said with a smile.

"Well, you were having trouble with the two, so I figured one was better."

She glanced down and read it again. _I love you._ She was back to the poker face, trying to look remote, but I could see that it had hit the mark just fine.

She sat down, set aside the phone and looked up at me.

"So tell me more about Pam. How's she really been? Do you ever see Sam? Alcide?"

We chatted for another hour and finally I had to leave. I could hear Andor pacing, making various remarks to Markus out in the stairwell.

"I'm afraid I have to leave," I said, preparing to rise from the chair.

This time she tried, but failed, to look expressionless as she nodded. She bit her lip as if not certain what she wanted to say.

I took her hand and kissed it, then rose. She rose as well and almost seemed disoriented or lost, still not knowing what to do or say. Finally she settled for,

"I'm glad I got to see you, Eric. Even if you did get into my apartment in a dismally underhanded fashion. I'm glad to know that you're okay." She glanced down for the briefest instant at my hand. "I'll try to keep in touch."

I gathered her into my arms and kissed her. She didn't pull away.

"I hope to see you again soon, Lover."

After I left, as I listened to her locking the door, I paused a moment and felt her sadness at my leaving. I smiled. Things were going well.

Andor looked up at me from the stairwell. He sniffed the air slightly and shook his head.

"Still no, Andor," I said in Norse. "That wasn't the point of the visit."

I started down the stairs and he grabbed my arm. He inhaled longer, deeper this time and then gave me an odd look.

"Is she part _fairy_?"

"We really need to move, right? It's after 1am. Markus is already downstairs?"

"So you found yourself a human with some fairy blood? This is the point?"

I looked at him with a dark glower and didn't reply. Totally _not_ the point. Never gave a damn about that part of it.

"But you don't even look like you fed? No sex, no blood? Honestly, Eric… Two nights, all the way from…" he continued.

As I grabbed at him, he dodged this time.

"Oh no, not again," he said with a smirk. "It isn't necessary to do it again. I get it. You like her, your business. But honestly…"

I had turned to head down the stairs and then suddenly swung back and this time connected with the side of his head.

"Slow," I said in English. "Too damn slow because you're so busy running your fucking mouth, Andor."

He laughed. "And I think I've heard that one from you only about a thousand times…." he replied in Norse.

"You were always a bit thick on taking the advice, though, weren't you?" I said shaking my head with a smile.

He laughed, put his hand on my shoulder and we took the stairs down two at a time, silently nonetheless. We'd be home in a few hours. And I could only imagine the grilling I would be facing from Pam, who would want to know every possible detail about her 'little friend'.


	4. Chapter 4

**IV.**

"You clearly can't read _my_ mind..."

"You're sounding so annoyed. What do you mean? What's that supposed to mean?"

"I mean that, if you think it was a _convenient_ means to keeping Felipe away from you, you're kidding yourself. You can't even infer the simplest things with respect to my intent. Even now. Which is just _incredible_."

I was incredulous. She said she'd be here in a week. Why was she even coming if she still didn't grasp it? She really still acted like I hadn't told her I loved her at all. And a marriage of convenience? _Convenience_? Like I'd just happened on the idea at the spur of the moment to solve a problem that popped up? First, _I had already asked her before_. Of course in her mind, I wasn't myself when I had asked her. But after I _had_ recovered all the memories, surely she could make the connection? Evidently not. The marriage and the bond. The two sticking points. Honestly, the woman was all but impossible. How anyone so clever could be so obtuse at times was beyond me. I asked her to marry me when I was not myself, she refused it as wrong. When I _was_ myself, and when she clearly needed to be kept from being co-opted by Felipe, I married her in a way bound to keep her safe from him on pain of death. And it was highly _inconvenient_ to me to do so at that juncture, since incurring Felipe's displeasure four months into his tenure of the state was really not exactly a strategy that was gaining me any favor. There was only one possible reason I would do such a thing and that would be because I really _wanted _to. A point clearly lost on Sookie Stackhouse or Sasha Gordon or whoever the hell the woman I was married to was calling herself at the moment.

"I don't get you. So you're saying it wasn't convenient. _Is_ that what you're saying?"

She tipped her head at an angle as she adjusted the laptop camera position a bit.

"Hang on a minute," I said. I got up and opened a bottle of True Blood that had been delivered a few minutes before. It was still warm. I shook my head. I needed a moment to try to calm myself. Honestly, thick as a plank, this woman, at times. I tried to focus on my discussions with Pam. Insecure, distrustful, fragile. Proud. Very proud. Independent, stubborn. I rubbed my eyes. Perhaps having this discussion at 6 am her time was not the best plan. Maybe she wasn't alert enough yet to think clearly? I sat back down in front of my laptop and forced myself to smile.

"Where were we?" I asked with a smile.

"The marriage of convenience, Eric. Which you imply was not so convenient, if I'm getting you there. I mean, I really _don't_ get you. I meant it like you were conveniently keeping me away from Felipe. Out of his clutches, you know?"

I smiled again. Smart, beautiful, much, much more worldly than she had been. Politically savvy? No. Definitely, _no_. At least not about this kind of thing.

"Sookie, exactly how do you think that went over with Felipe? Was he offering us his felicitations? Do you recall receiving his congratulations? Gifts? Hmmm?"

She bit her lip.

"So you're saying it caused you a lot of problems then? But then, I really don't get it, Eric. Didn't you _know_ it would cause problems?"

I stared at the screen and was silent.

"Seriously, Eric. I mean, if you _knew_ it was going to cause problems, it just seems so… unlike you. And it went against what you told me in the past, that you would protect me unless it put you in a bad position. Or endangered your people, or whatever. I mean…"

I leaned back in my chair and put my feet up on my desk and took a sip of True Blood. Having a real relationship with someone you couldn't get mad at in the usual way was really… challenging. But even shouting over the internet really didn't work well in my experience, so I was just going to have to absorb it. Besides, shouting at her when asking her to visit seemed like a very bad plan.

She continued. "I can hardly see you when you sit like that. So…uh, I don't know if you're getting mad or something. But, coming back to the same thing, if this was such a risky thing for you to do, why the heck did you do it and are you really sure, and I mean _really_ sure that it's going to be okay for me to come back, even if just to visit? And I mean safe for _both_ of us."

I put my feet back down and sat right in front of the camera. I propped my cheek on my hand and really made the effort not to sound as annoyed as I felt.

"_Why_ did I do it? Do you still have the first revised short list of reasons about why I came to visit you? You can just look at that. The first thing, the _only_ thing on that list? Might be relevant here. Yes, look at that one. And am I really sure that it's safe for you to come back to visit? Yes. I am really absolutely and positively sure. Safe for you. Safe for me. Trust me. No one, other than me, is going to touch you. Well, maybe Pam, but she hardly counts, no matter how annoyed she thinks she can get me. Perfectly safe, the only thing on that one list. Do you have that?"

"You're sounding seriously pissed off." She looked taken aback.

I smiled again. "I wonder why you think so?"

She was silent for a while and looked away while playing with a few strands of her hair. Then she said,

"So, I won't be referring to it as a marriage of convenience again, okay? I'm sorry. I didn't mean it the way you took it. I guess I was just being flippant and it came out… well… I guess the real point is that I didn't think about it from that point of view. That it definitely wasn't convenient for you."

"I can see that. Yes, I _can_," I said nodding. I could feel my eyes glow slightly with temper.

"Well, um, maybe I should let you go, Eric. You seem… like you might like to take some time to just… relax."

"Not so fast… How did we get to this topic in the first place? I wanted you to stay here, with me."

"And I told you I'm not comfortable doing that. And you're not even exactly telling me where 'with you' is. All you told me was to fly into New Orleans instead of Little Rock or Dallas and flying to Shreveport. You don't tell me anything else."

"You will be picked up at the airport in New Orleans. And I'll give you more information when I have your flight information, which you seem not to want to provide."

"I told you, I'm flying standby."

"This is an interesting plan you and I have."

"You mean that you don't know when I'm coming and I don't know where I'm going? Yeah, interesting. It's a lot like my day to day work, though, so _I'm_ fine with it. I'll be there on the 12th. Really. Just the quick trip and I'll be back in the States and then I'll be there. In that wonderful state. Where I have so many unconflicted memories…"

"Where are you going for the trip, Sookie? Really. I want to know."

"Um, really, I can't tell you, actually. Like, really I'm not _allowed_ to tell you. How about… it's in the Middle East."

It bothered me. I kept having this lingering feeling that I didn't really understand what she did. She'd described how she worked, but nothing about where or when or really anything specific at all. And the Middle East? Where was it safe in the Middle East? I thought to myself.

"It's safe? Where you're going is safe?"

"Way safer than my front porch was. Armed guards and the whole nine yards."

I rubbed my forehand with a sigh. Really on a roll this morning, wasn't she? I thought about all the comments that Andor had made about my wanting to be involved with a woman who was so obviously willful. And he didn't even know I'd gone and married the willful creature. At least I will never be bored for lack of challenge. I tried to refocus my thoughts sharply.

"I really want you to stay with me," I said finally, looking up at the camera.

"And as I told you, I'm not going to. It's enough that I show up, Eric. Really it is. I can also get myself from the airport to a hotel. Since no one knows it's me and no one other than you, and maybe Pam, knows that I'm coming, I'll be fine."

"You'll be fine if you stay with me. Better than fine," I said giving her a flirtatious look. I'd recently sent her a list of twenty-three ways in which I could make her feel fine, but she had not responded to that email as yet. She gave me a moment's silent look and then looked away, unable to keep from smiling. Clearly, she liked the email.

"Something wrong?" I asked with a smile.

"I'm… fine," she said after moment, looking back at the camera with the smile barely wiped off her face. "But I'm staying in a hotel. I mean it." She leaned back in the chair with her arms crossed. That was certainly a clear message.

I'd have to get her to stay with me once she was here. I should just drop it now, and get her to change her mind later. I tried to think back. Not to the time right before she left, but when I was with her before that. We laughed and talked, she was not shy. The things I had talked her into… All over the house. Outside on her porch. It was obvious that one of the best times to talk her into something was in the midst of having fun. I recalled that she had been very… open to suggestions at such times. Step one of the plan, just get her here. Step two, get her to stay here, with me. Step three… No, just focus on getting her here, here with me. Even though right now she didn't know what 'here' meant. She didn't need to know yet. I just had to get her here. Then I'd be able to talk her into all manner of things.

I glanced swiftly around the room. Pam was right. If I was really going to go through with this, the rooms really needed work. Pam still seemed incredulous at the idea that I would let her stay upstairs. She didn't think it I'd go through with it. I could tell. Pam was the only one who really knew what was going on. But even she couldn't believe I'd have a human, even probably her very favorite human of all, stay with me while I slept. Frankly, part of me couldn't believe it myself. But I'd thought about the fifteen rounds in her Glock that never got fired and was sure it was a safe plan, however unlikely it was that this was _my_ plan. I really couldn't see her ever doing anything to harm me. And she'd be safest here, in the compound, with me.

I nodded at the camera.

"Fine. However you wish. When do you leave for 'the Middle East'?"

"Um, I think we're going tonight. Maybe tomorrow. It's a little fluid right now. There are other factors that determine when we go."

I didn't know what she was really doing, but I hated it already. 'A little fluid'? That was the kind of crap I said when something was really not going well. What did that mean to her, I wondered?"

"And will you be able to talk to me while you're away?"

"It will only be a day or two. And I'm thinking it might be difficult to work out Skyping. I won't have a lot of time or privacy, Eric. And with the time difference, and not having a guaranteed connection… I'll just try to email you from my phone, okay? Like before."

Okay? No, it wasn't really okay. I'd been worried before. I really preferred _seeing_ that she was okay.

"I'll look for your email, then. But hopefully, we'll talk again before you leave."

"Sure. I'll try. If I leave before sunset your time, I'll leave you a voicemail. Really you worry too much. I'll be fine. But I should go, now. I have to get dressed."

"You can just leave the camera running, Lover," I said with a smile. "Any plans to shower? Think of my new list. The third thing?"

"You continue to live in denial," she replied, now unable to keep from smiling openly. "Consider yourself hugged, okay? I've gotta to run."

"Perhaps, when we speak later we can discuss that list? I'm quite open to your suggestions. And order really isn't important, though some things naturally lead to others…"

"Well, we're definitely not discussing _anything_ on that list right before I go to work and to get my butt kicked by my trainer Uri. And frankly, that list…" she shook her head but couldn't stop smiling.

"As I recall, you liked things on that list quite a bit. Positively _enthusiastic_. And I have further suggestions, as I'm sure you noticed. Anything to add at present? Because don't be deceived by the length, Lover. In two weeks I'm sure we can do the whole thing several times over in its entirety. So add more, by all means."

"Eric! I am totally not discussing this right now. I need to get dressed and leave for Quantico, okay? Seriously! Goodbye already."

"Well, I hope you have a good day. And that you look forward to our discussion later. I know _I_ am," I said, with a playful leer.

"Honestly, Eric… Just rest well. And I'm glad you're not mad anymore. _Bye_." She shook her head, then ended the call.

She must really like the list, I thought smiling to myself. Not even a complaint.

I sighed. Two weeks. I had two weeks with her to try to get this to work out. And unfortunately, it looked as if I could now count on Andor, Cadel and Stefan being absolutely incredulous when they found out that I had _married _the woman, and she would not even stay in the compound with me. Andor had already been bad enough about the whole business. Although that initial argument about going to Virginia was brief because I was faster than he was and had made my position _very_ clear. Yes, they still didn't know that we were married. I had no plans to discuss any of it until she was actually here. Pam knew how I felt about things. Had known for years now. Had somehow managed, against all odds considering it _was_ Pam, not to go after my choices here. Had not said anything about the three long years. Had not, after the first few months, even tried to parade anyone in front of me. Pam was the best turn I'd made, I thought to myself. A keeper. A real keeper. Maybe I'd turned her for pretty despicable reasons, but she seemed wholly content with how things had worked out, almost from the beginning. Pam was determined to help me get her back.

Yes, it was going to look odd, but I didn't care. I just wanted her with me and I was sure that I'd be able to convince her to stay with me once she was here. Everyone around me would just have to keep their opinions to themselves. If they knew what would be good for them, that is.


	5. Chapter 5

**V.**

In an hour and a half we had covered the gamut from my present circumstances in Louisiana, Dermot, her boss calling her to question what she the hell she was doing here, her telling him she was married to me, which amazed me, and finally, most gratingly, the fact that I was not having sex with her after all, if she continued to refuse to admit her feelings. This last fact really seemed to outrage her. It was also not a particularly convincing threat since only a few minutes later we were all over each other, as she managed to point out rather triumphantly. Of course, I was triumphant myself that I'd gotten her back to the point of at least wanting it badly enough to be annoyed that I'd threaten _not_ to have sex. But honestly, when she tried to offer 'admitting to missing' me in place of saying she loved me, I was mentally back to that moment when she 'appreciated' me instead of loving me. After a few minutes of really taking that in, it was not hard to say, 'no, thank you'. Instead, I planned to go down my list of what she would be missing out on if she didn't own up to what she felt. We were up to twenty-eight now, after all. The four days before she had arrived in New Orleans had provided for some steamy conversation. Sometimes she acted shy, which was at odds with some very _not shy at all_ memories I had, as I kindly reminded her. On one occasion she even said if I didn't cut it out and just talk about regular stuff that she'd hang up. I noted that she did not, however, _ever _threaten to alter her travel plans.

Now, when I tried to bait her and she acted all insulted, we somehow managed to segue into an admission on her part that she was sorry that she had not agreed to stay with me when I had asked her to do so almost three and a half years before. I was surprised that she had even reconsidered her choices then. She still seemed to blame herself for what had happened to everyone who died or suffered harm. She pointed out that she was concerned, in retrospect, that the fairies could have harmed _me_ while I rested, had she stayed with me. Whatever she had seen with them, beyond what they had actually done to her, she seemed convinced that it was not possible for me alone to have protected her. Looking at her, at her pale and remote face, I decided to stop teasing her at present. I reminded myself that she had come back to Louisiana in spite of all her bad memories and that she deserved gentle handling even if I didn't like some of what she said to me. That perhaps if _I _had made different choices, none of it would have happened as it did. I felt sorrow in the thought that she still suffered great anguish over all of it. It was the first time in as long as I could remember that I genuinely regretted my choices and found myself wondering 'what if'. She voiced the same thoughts, along with commenting on the futility of pondering what might have been.

I tried to reserve my own comments as I watched her read through her email. She looked sad, and alone, as I had seen her look that cool October night. I asked her if she was alright and she mentioned something about one of her friends from work having a baby. She looked quite sad. One thing led to another and I finally got her to tell me the truth, the very ugly truth, about her work. Where she worked, and more importantly, something of what it was like.

It was so much worse than anything I had imagined.

As she talked on, I just stared at her. So this was the endgame of her telling me, finally, what it was that she really did? I was scrambling… _scrambling_ to absorb it. She was traveling to war zones, all over the Middle East and Asia, even to Africa. 'Interviewing' people in areas that were, so far as I could recall from the times I paid attention to the news which was admittedly more frequently now, _incredibly_ dangerous. And she had told me before that her team was maybe three or four people. So they would just drop in and whomever they were working with would protect them, hopefully adequately? All over Iraq, Pakistan, Afghanistan? The Sudan? Not in offices. Not in embassies, which now she was telling me weren't even safe, anyway. In _the field_. As in driving around. In places that had land mines, suicide bombers and sniper attacks or basically, open warfare. This was her job for the past eighteen months? Well, as far as I was concerned this wasn't fragile. Not at all. It was fucking suicidal.

"And you think it would be dangerous moving back to Louisiana?" I asked feeling exasperated. _Was she kidding?_

"No, I think, for now at least, it would be a poorer use of my ability. Plus, I guess I think if I were living here, the way you keep trying to suggest… I'd just end up brokenhearted and you would end up feeling guilty when it all ends badly. So I might as well just do this because at least I'm being very useful. In fact, it's probably the most useful I've ever felt. I guess I just don't know how long I can continue doing it before losing a sense of empathy for mankind because we have such capacity for indifference or harm. Because I have seen some seriously horrible things in other people's heads. Or before it becomes so unsafe that I just can't do it without feeling like I have a death wish or something. That's another factor. No reason to have survived Neave and Lochlan to get myself killed over there, right?"

I looked away and tried to really bury my thoughts and inclinations, which clearly, knowing her, were going to get me nowhere and quite possibly ruin everything. _Brokenhearted_? Still not believing I loved her. _Still._ She would prefer to go off and be useful in _war zones _versus living here. I reminded myself I had just said I would ignore some of what she said that I didn't like. I tried to imagine drawing a deep breath, even though I didn't breathe. As a strategy, it wasn't working well, however. I did not feel calmer or reassured at all.

Short of holding her against her will, which clearly wouldn't work because of the FBI, this is what I would be dealing with. Thinking that every fucking time she would go on one of her little trips she would be going someplace that could get her killed. I wanted her to quit, and come home_, right now_. What kind of job was this? Fucking Iraq, where they had suicide bombers? Some lawless corner of Pakistan? Afghanistan, where it seemed things were also falling apart? The Sudan, _illegally_? I tried to compose myself. It was really hard not to sound angry.

"If you told them you didn't want to go on those risky jobs, why did they send you to Pakistan this recent time? You said you didn't want to go anywhere unless it was legal, right? But you thought what they were doing was kind of illegal."

She hesitated. It was obvious that she was trying to find a way to answer without really exactly answering. I could feel her qualms now about having told me any of it at all. Just like I could feel her ambivalence earlier for having come here at all. She could clearly feel and see that I was not happy.

"Well, I volunteered to go that time. I knew it wasn't quite on the up and up. Part of the counterterrorism team I work with at Quantico was going on loan to the Army, so I volunteered to go, to help them. They knew I'd end up going with them. Besides if I go, then I just talk to the person instead of… well you get the picture. Accuracy of information was an important issue on that job. Personally, I don't really think you get much accurate information from hurting people or terrorizing them back. Plus, it just creates a whole other range of problems. Let's just say there are others who don't quite agree with that take."

I studied her thoughtfully.

"Why would the US need to be in Pakistan illegally anyway? They're a US ally, right?"

"Couldn't tell you. But I'm sure you're more than bright enough to figure out why a superpower might go into another sovereign state and start interrogating suspected terrorists under the auspices of their military rather than their actual government."

"I guess when you think they think the government won't really do the right thing? But why even care about somebody in Pakistani custody? He was already captured, right?"

"I should get you a subscription to _The Economist_ as a present. Not just great business and political news. Great foreign affairs analysis in a really accessible format. Basically, I'd say this: some people believe that the Taliban are still quite well connected with Al Qaeda. Al Qaeda is a small group of people compared to the numbers you see with the Taliban, who definitely have an army. I'm sure you heard on the news that the Taliban were only about fifty miles outside of Islamabad right? There's a lot of interesting stuff in Islamabad. You know, like the entire government. A lot of access to things."

I didn't need a fucking magazine subscription to figure out her meaning. What I needed was to understand why the person I had allowed myself to love apparently had a death wish. A jeep filled with people she knew blown up? How closely in front of her, I wondered? Clearly _not_ _close enough_ to get some sense into her and get her to quit.

"Pakistan has nuclear weapons," I said quietly.

"Hey, even vampires might be affected by those," she said with a smile.

She had come to New Orleans exactly as she said she would, on the day she said she would. She had checked into a hotel. She had shown up, looking beautiful, even if I was never going to get used to the red hair and green eyes. Shown up loaded with weapons as if she was still sure I was going to harm her, or that I was bringing her back specifically to hand her over to Felipe, who unbeknownst to her was long dead for good. She had absorbed the news that I was King, the news that Bill and I had killed Dermot, as if it was nothing. Not even an issue, really. She was so changed in that respect.

She had finally started to talk about what had happened to her, even if only a bit. At least they had not raped her, although I could see that even the idea of that still held a powerful horror in her mind. She'd already been abused enough in that respect, as I now knew. And given what they _had_ done to her, I could only sympathize that it was so difficult for her to talk about it. And yet, she was still mindful, guilt-ridden even, over what had happened to Claudine and the others and the price that Bill and I had paid for helping to rescue and protect her. Yes, she was still fragile because of what had happened three and a half years before. But she was still very brave. Brave enough to come here to visit, and to accept exactly what she found. There could be only one reason to visit me, unless I counted visiting Pam, too, and that would be because she still loved me. But in a full month and a half of talking to the woman every day, many times twice a day, she had never once admitted it. I wondered what it would take to make it okay for her to love me.

As I sat listening to her, it occurred to me that I was getting a healthy taste of my own medicine. I had not been exactly thrilled to have fallen under the spell of a human, to have become all but obsessed as far as some of those working under me thought then, and at least Pam and Andor thought _now_. There was this whole subtext that it was somehow lowering yourself to care so much about a human. Well, Pam only played at that, because really, even with less time spent with her, Pam had a very substantial attachment to Sookie herself. Maybe even, in the beginning, it was my own take on the situation. And what was I to her? Clearly, she was as wary as she could possibly be and still be here, alone, with me, now, in New Orleans, or even just back in Louisiana. Looking at her, feeling how incredibly skittish she was, I was amazed she had shown up at all. She loved me, but there was some underlying ambivalence about it that made my own previous ambivalence look practically trifling in comparison.

She glanced at her watch.

"I think I'm going to go back to the hotel and get some sleep. I've been up since 6 am Eastern time."

Oh, no you're not, I said to myself. You are not leaving, not now. In fact, I don't want you leaving at all, period. I leaned forward and extended my hand to her. She smiled and took it. We rose.

I was just going to go ahead as planned. Damn the torpedoes, as they say. With the right amount of delicate pressure, I was moving ahead. No time to lose, really, when I thought about getting her away from that job and back here.

"I want to show you around upstairs," I said with a soft smile, holding her hand firmly.

"What's upstairs?" she asked.

I decided to go the playful route. She liked that. It would set her at ease.

"I said I'll show you. Maybe you could try to act like you're glamoured as we go out? It will make a much better impression. I have a reputation to maintain."

"Yeah, well really I don't think that's gonna happen, Eric."

Yes, looking like she was enthralled in any way was not likely, I thought with a smile. She gathered up the absurd weapon collection. For a moment I thought about the metal detectors and the bit about the silver. She was right. That bore attending to. I felt a fleeting sense of pride that she knew such things. But then I thought about how ambivalent she was to be here at all and that she came loaded with weapons as if, in spite of everything I'd told her, I'd let her come to harm or harm her myself. And I got totally sidetracked by what that might mean she thought of me.

We went out of my office and she seemed to make a quick study of Andor and Markus. As we passed and headed for the stairs Andor glanced over her head and cracked a smile at me, his eyes sparkling. I turned back after we had passed and saw his nostrils flair as he inhaled her scent. I gave him a very dark look. He just smiled more.

I held her hand as we walked up the stairs. We entered the dark room I pressed against her arm firmly for a moment as if to tell her to stay put, then moved away from her and turned on a light on my desk. I stood behind her and massaged her shoulders as she looked at all the swords and daggers that Pam and I had hung in the past week. She started to reach out to touch my broadsword and I grasped her hand to stop her.

"It's really sharp. Especially where the metal has been chipped away."

"Have you fought with all of these?" she asked quietly.

"Yes," I said, glancing up and down the wall. "All of them." Over many centuries, in more battles than I could count.

"I remember those," she said pointing to the iron daggers with a shiver. The fairies, I thought to myself. Perhaps I shouldn't have hung those?

She turned away, sharply. To look at the books, a happier topic. She walked over to one of the bookcases and pulled out a slim volume of Samuel Taylor Coleridge. She found it opened readily to _The Rime of the Ancient Mariner_. I leaned down to look at what she was reading and chuckled. Jackson. The time that had finally cemented our mutual trust and attraction. I kissed her temple. She closed the book and replaced it on the shelf. I could see that she was confused by the lack of organization.

"I haven't had time to organize them again. They were packed badly, from my house in Shreveport, when I moved. Someone did them according to size rather than how I had them organized. I do a little at a time occasionally. If I read an author, I try to gather up all of that author. I haven't had much time to read lately, though."

She gave a sharp breath, almost a gasp, seeming momentarily upset. But then it passed. What had upset her in that instant, I wondered?

"Which Dickens?" she asked softly, having noted that all the Dickens was neatly organized.

"_A Tale of Two Cities_."

"Really? I just read it over Christmas. I liked it much better than some of his other books. I liked the history and social issues in it."

"You should talk to Pam about it. She loves Dickens. Dickens certainly isn't my favorite writer. But I enjoyed the book, too." I'd dutifully told Pam about all the Austens, Brontës and Dickens that I'd seen in her bookcase back in May. Pam had plans…

"Who's your favorite writer?" she asked, looking up at me.

"At the moment? Mann? No… Probably Dostoyevsky."

"Hmm. Never read any Dostoyevsky. I like Tolstoy, though. _Anna Karenina_, especially. I've been doing more reading in the past three years than in my whole life before. It's the first time I've read real literature. One of my friends recommends books to me and we discuss them."

I leaned down and pulled out _Crime and Punishment._

"_Crime and Punishment_. Such a charming title. It sounds like a really happy tale."

"You can borrow it, but you have to give it back. I hardly ever loan books."

Maybe you can just live here and read the whole damn library, I thought to myself. And the irony of giving her _Crime and Punishment_? She could be my own little Sonya…

"I can get it at the library. Really."

I pushed it back toward her. "Read mine." I would like to have your scent on my things. My books, my bed, me… Everywhere in these rooms. _Everywhere_.

"Okay. I'll make it my 'light' vacation read… No Jane Austen or the Brontës for you, eh?"

"They're too optimistic for my taste."

She glanced up at me with a smile and laughed, exactly getting my humor.

I said, "I probably have all of them down here, though," leaning down to glance at one of the lower shelves. "Yes, Pam put them in order. Pam likes Austen and Charlotte. She does not like Ann or Emily. She likes George Eliot quite a bit, too. Pam is the only other person who has been in here since we moved in. But Pam," I said, firmly taking her hand and pulled her gently along the wall toward another door, "never comes in here."

I closed the door behind us and she stood there while I lit the candles. I could hear her heartbeat accelerate when she looked the bed. She was afraid. I could smell the scent of her fear. She was _afraid_? She tried to cover it up with humor. And I tried to pretend I didn't notice a thing.

"No coffin?" she joked, with a slight strain in her voice.

"Only for travel, if necessary, Lover. There's a collection downstairs, first floor."

She ran her fingers along the footboard. I walked over to her and took the gun and holster, the leather jacket and the book from her hands and put them on the table. Then I lifted her onto the bed. She didn't say a word but didn't meet my eyes either. I gently took out the gear she had strapped to her ankles, taking extra care while grasping silver blade by its handle, and put them onto the table next to her other things. I walked back and stood close to her, tipping her chin upward, asking her to meet my eyes with hers.

"Tell me," I asked softly.

I felt her struggle internally. It felt as if she wanted to run. As the candlelight played across her face I could see fear, uncertainty, and distrust, interwoven with her underlying feelings. After looking down for a moment, she seemed to compose herself and looked up to meet my eyes. She paused for a moment, then spoke.

"I love you. I always loved you," she said in a shuddering whisper.

I felt my eyes glow, saw that glow reflected in her eyes. I bent to kiss her lips softly.

"And I love you," I said softly, looking into her eyes.

She let out a small gasp and looked away, eyes closed, her whole face seeming to close up. No, no, _no_… I thought to myself.

"Shhhhh," I said softly, sitting down on the bed next to her and, finally, pulling her into my lap. "It's fine. You're fine, Sookie." I stroked her cheek and felt her literally trembling. She was on the verge of tears. She felt so… very much. Perhaps almost too much. I leaned her against me and just rocked her in my arms until finally she began to breathe more calmly again. After a few minutes of calm she reached up and pulled my head to hers and kissed me. Firmly, passionately, with urgency, as if she had made some sort of decision to do so, to move forward. I rocked back into the bed, pulling her with me, on top of me.

After still more kissing and her unbuttoning my shirt I stopped her from pulling her own off.

"I'll take it from here," I said.

As I undressed her I was puzzled. She still saw scars? Because the scars were almost impossible to see. And if _I_ was having trouble seeing them, I seriously doubted that the average human would notice them at all. They were the finest traces in most areas. The only ones that appeared significantly noticeable to me were two faint strips on her left thigh where long strips of flesh had been cut away. They seemed to have regrown smoothly and well with my blood and the margins were only ever so slightly evident. A little more time and they'd likely fade completely. All the slashes that had been on her thighs and arms, the bitten out flesh on hips, thighs and breast appeared to be healed and were now very, very faint. Whatever work she'd had done had healed well, too. The breast that had been bitten was slightly different in shape from what it had been, but still beautiful. And she was so much thinner that really they both were different. Perfectly symmetrical, to my eyes, I thought dispassionately. She was as beautiful as ever. Perfectly beautiful. So what was she seeing? In any case, I just kissed her everywhere as I went and let it go uncommented upon. But I wondered, did she really still think she was scarred? What scars did she _really_ mean, I thought to myself?

She was an odd combination of no longer used to being touched and extremely horny. Three years, almost three and a half, is certainly a long time, even when you're well over a thousand years old. But when you're thirty? She appeared to be very eager, almost disconnected from her prior emotional state of only minutes before. As much as I shared the eagerness, I did _not _want a repeat of the previous time.

"Slow down," I said softly taking her hand away and interlacing her fingers with mine and kissing it. "We have plenty of time. And it's been a long time. We should… take it easy. Talk to me. Talking will slow you down."

She looked at me, with those odd green eyes, opened her mouth to speak, closed it, then as her lips parted again she finally said rapidly,

"Eric, if I go too slowly and start talking, I'll start _thinking_ and I can tell you right now, you don't want me thinking too much about this because if I do, we're not…"

I kissed her, rolled on top of her, straddling her hips with my thighs. I leaned forward and held her face and kissed her again.

"Slowly. Not running. Not panicking. Not pretending like it doesn't matter to you or that _I_ don't matter to you. _Slowly_. Yes?"

In the hours that followed I once again marveled at the fact that something that you could literally have done tens of thousands of times could feel different, better, _new_, with the right person to be doing it with. With my eyes locked on hers, her back against the wall, and me thrusting into her as she held onto me, breathless, meeting my eyes, I could only think… _She_ was so right. She was mine but it was more than that. No fangbanger, no pretty-faced donor, _no one_ _else, _was ever going to make me feel this. It was different, new, to be loved and… _to love back_. I had fought and earned the right to enjoy this. This was what I wanted and I wasn't going to let go of it easily ever, ever again. I was certain that I was never giving it up.

I waited until we were back in the bed, and until I had her full attention. Sitting on me, facing me with her legs wrapped around me, she was playful with me and seemed to be enjoying still more. I thought, given her current frame of mind, which was quite happy, that I might as well just lay it all out on the table. Steps one through three. Why not? She was already here. That was accomplished. And the rest? If got her to stay one day, I was sure I'd have her for the rest of her visit.

"Sookie, look at me," I said. "Look at me." I rocked her back from me slightly.

She opened her eyes and locked them on mine, then leaned forward again and kissed my throat where she had bitten it before. Even that wasn't enough to distract me from what I wanted, although I flashed on the sensation of coming as she sank her teeth into my neck and savored it. I rocked her back again so that I could see her face.

"Two things," I said softly, focused clearly on her eyes. "I want you to stay with me. Now, during the day. I want to wake up next to you. And... before you go back to Virginia, I want to marry you according to Louisiana state law. I'm telling you straight out tonight so you have a good two weeks to get used to the idea. I want to marry you legally."

It clearly took a minute to register. She seemed very distracted, which made me smile. The woman who couldn't be glamoured was still a bit enthralled by me. I leaned forward and kissed her again for good measure but that didn't even seem to register. No, it was as if I could see the wheels of thought and reason turning in her mind.

"Stay here today," I reiterated softly. "Stay with me."

Then I felt her stiffen, harden like hot steel plunged into cool water. She looked at me with eyes that were suddenly crystal clear in their focus.

"No, I can't stay here, Eric. I need to go to my hotel. I have to be able to meet with Sara Weiss this morning. I promised my boss."

I stopped moving and looked down at her. Now her eyes looked at me icily, as if she was immovable on the point.

"I want to wake up next to you," I said again, more firmly this time.

"Well, not today Eric. Not today. I'm sorry, I just can't. Manny will get totally freaked out if Sara can't connect with me in person. It's not safe to change the plan like that. He may not trust things are really okay until Sara's seen I'm fine. It's not safe for you and your people if Manny gets antsy. You have to remember that I'm a huge investment to them. The FBI doesn't have another telepath. This isn't a game to them, my being here. Manny may sound all light and nice, but if he gets concerned about my safety, it could be a serious problem for you and everyone living here."

_No?_ I looked at her incredulously. With me telling her I wanted her to stay, here with me, over the day, in _my_ bed. Asking her when I was _inside_ her, wrapped all around her, and she was still _refusing_ me? Her resistance was just incredible. It was, frankly, really hard to absorb. And what I had remembered from that other time, she had been so much more receptive to things I suggested to her?

"So call them and tell them you're staying here today. They can see you tonight. After sunset. I want you to stay here with me, Sookie," I pressed.

I was so sure I could persuade her but she didn't reply. I waited in silence, just looking at her, looking at me, as if she couldn't believe I was even still asking. She was _not_ pleased. Finally I was rewarded with,

"No, I can't. I said no. I really meant _No_. I have to be able to connect with her easily tomorrow in a place she's going to feel comfortable going to. She's not going to feel comfortable making sure I'm fine by coming here. Especially since that wasn't the plan I gave Manny. How about I promise I'll stay with you tonight and tomorrow during the day, okay? Today is totally non-negotiable."

_Non-negotiable_? Having her stay here, with me, now, in my bed, all day long, was _non-negotiable_? When had I ever asked, or _wanted_, to have any human stay with me where I slept? I swallowed, savoring the lingering taste of her blood in my mouth. Even after more than a month of talking to her, seeing her hours in Virginia, having her push me away from her both nights (something that was unusual enough in itself in the past many hundred years), I had not fully reconnected with my memories of just how incredibly stubborn, willful and independent she could be. My mind filled suddenly with arguments from the past, arguments peppered with words like 'buddy' and 'kite'. _She was really saying_ _no_? And unless I forced her to stay, which would obviously be a disaster, she seemed to really _mean_ no_._ I tried to stay cool. If she refused to stay what, practically speaking, could I do about it? Nothing… nothing at all. This was a situation with which I had no experience.

Finally, with little more to say or do, I asked,

"You heard the other part, right?"

She smiled. She was pleased that _I_ was yielding!

"Yes, I'm and I'm not dealing with that one at all right now…" she sighed and rocked her hips forward against me. You could really tell she liked to dance, the way she moved. And she was so limber. "Right now I'm on vacation, remember. I'm really enjoying my vacation. It's spectacular so far. I'm busy with other things. Very, very busy," she said in a playful tone, giving me quite the squeeze.

The saucy look she gave me… I so wanted to change her mind.

I rocked her back away from me and then held her face firmly, pulling her lips almost roughly to mine, kissing her. Then I shifted so that I was back on top of her, pinning her down by holding her hands in mine. I watched her every expression as I thrust into her. After a few minutes she pulled her hand away from mine, reached up and stroked my cheek then loosened the band from my hair. She stared at me oddly. Somehow in that moment I felt as if she was inside me, rather than the reverse. As if she enveloped me rather than the other way around. Most puzzling. I felt as if she was almost in my head. I had never felt anything like it before. Then the moment passed and suddenly she seemed almost limp beneath me. I continued for a moment and then stopped.

"Sookie? What's wrong? Are you too tired? Upset? You're so quiet. I'm not _hurting_ you?" I asked, concerned. Had I been too rough? Was it just too much?

She shook her head. In the flickering candlelight, looking up at me, her chest suddenly heaved. Her eyes welled up with tears.

I released her other hand and held her face as tears spilled over her cheeks. What had I done? What had I said? I couldn't fathom it. Had I hurt her somehow? Her eyes were closed. She wouldn't even look at me.

"I love you," she whispered with a shudder. It sounded like a terrible self-revelation the way she said it.

I suddenly felt a jolt of all out panic from her. It was so strong that I felt almost as if I hadn't been on top of her she would have run. What is this _fear_? I asked myself. I felt her desire to escape.

"Look at me," I commanded. Her eyes opened and found mine. "I love you back." My own voice sounded so strained. "And you had better be back here at sunset, Lover. No disappearing, no running away. I am _done_ with losing you."

She nodded slowly. She closed her eyes and just breathed. Then she pulled me to her and kissed me.

I hoped she really understood, because I was not letting her run away again. Not like before. Not even from whatever her feelings were. No matter what they were. They would be worked through. Then, I suddenly felt my own sense of hesitation. What was this that she felt? It was more than fear. I tried to understand and couldn't figure it out. She seemed so conflicted. As if she was genuinely _unhappy_ that she loved me. If I tried to look at it objectively, the only reason that I could think of was that she perhaps was unhappy to love me because I _was_ me. I was a vampire. I was dead, cold. I would never give her children. I would never give her the day. I would never give her…. the other half of time. I tried to balance this against what I knew. She was mine. She had come back to me. She _wanted_ to come back. She wanted me. I could feel it that she did. I didn't understand her. Meanwhile her hands on my butt urged me on. I rolled us onto our sides, looked into her eyes and we continued. But I was troubled. I wanted to understand but of course, she was the one who never wanted to talk about things…

Shortly before 5 am I made sure all of the bite wounds were healed. I reluctantly watched her dress but tried to act otherwise. I leaned against the bare wall near the door. I sniffed at it mischievously with a playful, knowing look. Her scent was everywhere in this room, now. When she was finished dressing I blew out the candles and then took her hand and led her out of the bedroom, and out of the library room. She moved wearily. As we walked in the hall to the stairs I said in a low voice,

"Don't be bothered by any reactions you get about being upstairs with me. There may be a lot of curiosity."

She gave me a puzzled look. I stroked her hand reassuringly.

"I really wasn't kidding when I say I don't take anyone to my houses, my rooms, anyplace private that's mine. Even Pam may be surprised."

Pam probably would be, even though she knew full well that my plan was ultimately to get Sookie to stay with us and move back here, to live with us. But I was really under the impression that Pam wasn't taking me completely seriously on a number of points. She hadn't even believed me when I said that Sookie didn't know yet that Felipe had been overthrown. I could tell she'd been impressed that I'd kept Sookie in the dark on that one. But I hadn't been sure that she'd come otherwise.

My plans were all really long term goals. But in the short term, what I would be dealing with in short order would be jibes from Andor, Cadel and perhaps even Stefan. Markus would never dare. Really, everyone in the compound would know that she was refusing to stay here with us. I felt a heavily internal sigh. Andor had already been so vocal with me about my visiting a human woman in Virginia. A woman who had evidently refused to have sex and from whom I had not even had blood after visiting for two nights in succession. It was inconceivable in Andor's mind. And my 'allowing' her to spurn my interests was made all the more incredible once he realized she had _fairy_ blood, as his very acute sense of smell had detected. Andor found the entire situation, the relationship itself, rather baffling. While he could envision taking a female partner for the long term, he said he couldn't understand wanting one who wasn't docile or at least more amenable. When he found out she couldn't be glamoured he said he wondered if I really knew what I was doing. No, I knew exactly what I was doing. Or I thought I did.

I was still taken aback that she wouldn't agree to stay with me. When, as a vampire, had I ever invited a human to stay where I slept? Never, not even a glamoured human. Let alone someone I loved. Had I ever loved anyone in a romantic sense, since I had become vampire, I wondered at times? Really love, any kind of love, was not practical at all if you were a vampire. So risky, and fraught with potential vulnerability. Had I ever really loved anyone in a romantic sense _ever_, though?

As I followed after her I wondered what she was thinking. Her ambivalence, her conflicting emotions, they made me unsettled. I was unused to such feelings with respect to women. In the end, it turned out her mind was just elsewhere. Her mind was on Pam.

"She won't be upset will she? I mean, she won't be jealous or anything, right?" She asked, slowing as we walked. She looked up at me with concern.

I found it rather interesting that she cared so much about what Pam felt or thought. Pam would like this, I thought to myself. She had always enjoyed being held in high regard by at least this one human. It was also reassurance to me that perhaps being vampire was not so bad in her eyes. But if being a vampire wasn't a problem in her eyes, what _was_ her problem with loving me?

I kissed her forehead. "She'll be fine, Lover. She'll probably be totally unbearable, in fact," I said with a chuckle. Totally unbearable. I doubted she'd resist the temptation to start emailing me about it in the few minutes before dawn, as soon as she was sure Sookie was out of the building.

We went downstairs to the sitting room area where five vampires, including Rasul and Stefan, were lounging around watching porn. She initially barely flinched, but then she seemed to regard the fangs in the guy's cock with wide-eyed alarm and then turned away. I tried to quell my instinct to laugh. For all her fire she was really such a gentle person.

"Rasul, Stefan, you will see Miss Gordon safely back to her hotel. Rasul, check her room thoroughly."

I turned her slightly more toward me and smiled as I said, "Your daytime security is provided by Bennett Tucker. He's a Were police sergeant with the New Orleans Police Department. He will contact you tomorrow morning, and give you a list of people you may see watching you." I pressed the card with Tucker's name and contact info into her hand.

She stared up at me as if in disbelief. In a really low enough tone of voice, leaning toward me, with my back turned to the five vampires in the room, she said,

"Eric, I'm an armed federal agent. Are you _kidding_ me? And I'm going to be under surveillance by Sara's crew without question, as soon as I meet up with Sara tomorrow morning, maybe even before. I won't be able to turn on a dime without someone knowing it. Why are you going to have the police watching me, too?"

I looked down at her, trying my utmost to stay cool. Even so, I hissed in a low voice,

"Because I wish it," glaring at her.

She quickly seemed to grasp the fact that what she had said was wholly inappropriate in the present company. She blushed.

Rasul and Stefan had risen to escort her. Stefan looked at her curiously and then smiled at me as they walked toward the stairwell. Rasul looked rather oddly solemn.

She turned back to look up at me when she reached the landing between the second and first floors. Our eyes met and lingered for a moment and then she was gone. My heart felt an odd twist inside as she descended out of my sight. The only comfort I took in that was that I was quite sure she felt it, too.

I walked back toward my office to retrieve my current book, and suddenly Cadel fell in step with me.

"Saw her when she was leaving. Quite the looker, she is. _What_ a figure. Very considerate of you. We'll _all_ enjoy having that to look at. But you know, she looks to be quite the spitfire. You never like anything easy at all, do you Eric? You've really _married_ her, then?"

I stopped in my tracks and turned to look at him with narrow eyes. Clearly Pam had told him. Which meant he knew he was commenting about _my wife's figure_?

"Cadel, what the fu…"

He grinned as he slapped my shoulder and then burst out laughing as he took in and appeared to absolutely relish the look on my face. Before I could even respond, he'd disappeared, practically evaporating in his uniquely Cadel fashion. It pissed me off. I really did think he might be faster than me. And Cadel had more nerve with me than anyone I knew other than Pam. Or maybe Andor. A _lot _of nerve. Between the three of them it was really hard to decide who was worse. I was so very fortunate in my companions. At least Stefan and Markus were reasonable.

I turned and saw Andor about ten meters behind me, just keeping track of me. He looked as if tempted to comment, but all he did was nod to me with a rather unamused look. He didn't look happy at all. What had Pam said to them, I wondered? I climbed the stairs and then reentered my rooms on the third floor.

My phone vibrated with an email message as I entered my rooms. I opened the expected message from Pam. She was in fine form.

_She's still a basket case, isn't she? If you fuck this up, I'll be furious. She's my friend, after all and I've missed her. Especially since I'm stuck in this unrelievedly male environment you've arranged for yourself. She's still so amusing. You had better not be your royal pain in the ass self or you'll ruin it. And could you tell Andor and Cadel to shut up? They're two of the most annoying people I've ever met. What was your sire thinking_?_ Anyway, I told them that you were married but that fairies got her and almost killed her and that she went away for a time. Andor was pissed you did not tell him you were married to her. Cadel is pissed she's 'likely unavailable' now. (Don't even get me started…) Stefan, of course, is just quiet. I like Stefan__. Andor couldn't believe she survived those two fairies. He seemed incredulous. He asked how long they had her and when I told him and what they'd done to her, he was speechless. Now, if only that happened more often. I hope you are not angry I told them. Hopefully, it will get them to give you some space. Remember- if she dumps you, she's mine. She's just the most charming human. And I'd forgotten just how delicious she smells. And the hair! I've always loved red hair.  
_

I shook my head. Pam… my wonderful child. She sounded cheerful, actually. Well, she must think things look _quite_ promising if she'd told them we're married. I didn't mind. They'd have known soon enough anyway. Maybe it would get Andor to shut up. But I seriously doubted it. And I knew he'd probably been hurt that I hadn't told him. He was my oldest friend, truly a brother. But so very different from me. The difference between Pam and Markus was yet one example. Andor couldn't believe how irreverent Pam was or that she spoke her mind so freely. I liked Markus, but who would want a child who didn't speak his or her mind by his age? What use was it to surround yourself with those who would not be confidently forthright. And most of all, Andor could not understand what I could see in a woman I could not control. How could I explain her to him? It simply wasn't possible. He would just have to see over time.

I put my phone on its charger and turned back to look at my still empty bed with a sigh.


	6. Chapter 6

**VI.**

I sat propped up in bed. I hadn't really wanted to get up, even though I awoke early. My bed, and this room, smelled like her, smelled like sex, smelled vaguely like her blood. And I liked this. It would be better, however, if she were in the bed.

I picked up my phone again and sent her a text message.

_You are not in my bed._

I'd already replied to Pam's email of the previous night telling her she was lucky that I wasn't upset that she had told my charming siblings about my being married, that Sookie was never going to be _anyone_ else's and that she had better lay off with the hair business. Then, just to get her going, I told her that I thought it surprising that she didn't get along with Cadel considering how much alike they were. In some respects it was really true but I knew she'd be really outraged since she considered Cadel quite brazen.

I scrolled further through my email and was instantly annoyed by the terse email from the Sheriff of Area 2 about tonight's meeting. I was really getting to the end of my not very extensive patience with _all_ of Area 2. Pam had been in favor of taking all of them out, but I had wanted to be generous. Sometimes generosity is wasted effort, I thought to myself.

She texted back, _I will be the next time you wake up, so stop complaining already._

I liked this reply. She was keeping her word and would spend the day.

After finishing my reply to Area 2's pre-dawn email with about as plainly stated a threat as I thought was prudent to offer in an email, I smiled and thought of what to reply to her. Something playful, but restating my points.

_I really meant the second thing._

I was sure she thought I was kidding. She should know better. She would know better.

I read through five emails on which Maxwell Lee had copied me, detailing an argument that he was having with Vincent L'Ermo, who was running several ventures in Monroe. Maxwell was not happy with Vincent. But who would be happy with him? I replied only to Maxwell and told him to stop fighting by computer and take action, since it was apparently, in my sixty years experience as Sheriff of Area 5, about the only thing that Vincent understood. Frankly, I sometimes wondered if, now being in a better position to make my feelings about Vincent known to him, it wasn't time for Vincent to greet the dawn dressed in some silver chains. He was spectacularly uncooperative and about the only good thing you could say for him was that he was a good source of revenue. But he was very bad for vampire PR with his antiquated habits. The AVL had received many complaints about him. I was willing to see if Maxwell had better luck, while making my own position on the matter clear to him. And there was always the option of offering to Vincent that he could simply leave and putting someone else in charge of the Monroe ventures. But Maxwell's temperament was quite different from mine. Perhaps he would get better results, still leaving Vincent in place.

She replied.

_You hardly even know me. You haven't seen me for more than three years. That second thing is just plain crazy. Get a grip._

Southern manners at work… Tell me how you really feel about my proposal? No sentimentalism for her. She had a truly unique way of saying, 'I'm flattered, but no, thank you,' I reflected, laughing. I typed out a reply and quickly sent it.

_I know you quite well. I know what I want. Not interested in wasting more time, frankly. I'm getting a grip and will not let go again. I assure you._

Area 2 was already awake and replying. I wondered how he felt about oak versus ash? Oak was so much easier to obtain in the States, I thought, as I ignored his thinly veiled insulting manner and replied to him. I told him, smiling darkly as I typed it out, that I was really looking forward to talking to him tonight.

Immediately after sending the reply, I received a call from Tucker.

"Mr. Northman?"

"Tucker?"

"Is Ms. Gordon with you?"

I stiffened. I was clearly about to become extremely angry.

"No, Tucker, she is not. _Why _do you ask?"

He hesitated and then said, "She is not answering in her room and we have concerns that she may have gone out without calling us. May I have her cell phone number? She has mine but I did not receive hers."

"Tucker, I'm assuming I don't have to tell you that this is not what I'm paying for? And that it will not happen again. Are we clear on that point? You can trust me when I tell you that you do not want to displease me on this issue. Not you. Not any of your people. Hold on a minute."

I put the call on hold and tried to find the right frame of mind before typing out a text message to her.

_Where are you? I thought you would be here soon. Tucker says you are not in the hotel room. He asked me for your number? You were not to go out without his people guarding you._

Moments later she had texted back,

_Down the street at Galatoire's restaurant. Forgot to call Tucker. Very sorry._

I shook my head. Not even 36 hours since she arrived. This was simply not acceptable. I wanted her here, in this compound. For the remainder of her stay. I was determined to get what I wanted.

_Do NOT leave where you are until he arrives. He will bring you here._

I took the call off hold.

"She says she is in Galatoire's, down the street from the hotel. How did she even exit the hotel without your knowledge? Are you keeping an eye on her or not? You were supposed to set this up so that watching her was virtually transparent to her. Is this how your pack does business? Because I'm thinking that you are leaving yourselves pretty vulnerable."

"It will not happen again."

"Oh, I can assure you that it won't, Tucker. I can _firmly_ assure you of that."

I sent a text message telling Stefan to wait for her downstairs and got up to shower.

Stefan texted me as soon as she arrived. I waited in the library. When she knocked I opened the door and just smiled. She looked apprehensive, so I let the entire business pass without comment. I picked up her bags and silently steered her back to the bedroom. I undressed her, picked her up and put her into the bed, took off my robe and got back in myself. She still seemed quite tired. I let her relax as we listened to the rain outside. She fell asleep. I lay there with her in my arms and enjoyed the simplicity of it. It was a glimpse of the feeling I wanted, with her. To wake with her like this. I liked having her next to me in the bed. I analyzed ways to get her to agree to stay for the remainder of the trip while I enjoyed the warm length of her leaning against me.

About 45 minutes later, I roused her. As we dressed, I was surprised when she asked if I wanted blood. I smiled, pleased that she would offer.

"Later tonight. Just a taste perhaps. After all I had a fair amount yesterday. You ate well before you came? Can I have anything else prepared for you?" I said, as I straightened out her blouse and kissed her. She shook her head no.

"You look really nice," she said. "It's a very nice suit. Very well tailored. Do you always get so dressed up to see people now?"

"I'm talking business again this evening, so it makes a more serious impression. Some days it is more casual. Tonight is all business. Pam and Bill will keep you busy until I'm done. Probably not before 2 am, though. Do you have any clothes you wish to have washed or dry cleaned? You can put your things with mine while you're here visiting."

Again she shook her head no. I picked up the basket and took it out of the room and dropped it outside, in the hall.

She brushed her hair a bit and after she looked around in her cosmetics bag, I noticed and removed a bottle of medication.

"What's this for?" I asked.

She glanced at it and frowned.

"They're sleeping pills. Sometimes I've had trouble sleeping and I was worried it could happen because I was back here."

I studied her, but handed back the bottle. I remembered seeing her stay up reading until 3:30 am in the morning that October night, a weeknight.

"Why do you have trouble sleeping?"

She stared at me as if I was missing something incredibly obvious. After a long pause, she said,

"Um, first it was because of what happened, then because of what happened plus the depression about what happened, then all the anxiety about adjusting to my new life, the depression and the memories of what happened, and then all the shit I was reading from people's minds. Sometimes I still get bad episodes with Neave and Lochlan. I haven't in a while, though."

I tried to withhold my feelings all the while thinking _I let this happen to her._ I thought yet again that I had falsely believed she'd be fine, that Brigant could protect her. She looked at me inquisitively, as if she still knew I was affected by it but it seemed like she was thought I was troubled by the idea she had nightmares rather than what was ultimately causing them.

"I'm fine, Eric. Really, I'm fine."

"I thought these medications could be addictive."

"I haven't taken any in a long time. See the date on the bottle? And it's almost full." She handed the bottle back to me but I didn't even look at it. "I just brought it in case being back in Louisiana caused... problems. I didn't even have any problems after you visited Virginia last month, so I guess things are finally getting better," she said.

I wasn't so sure that last part was exactly true from looking at her. There was an odd tone to her voice as she said it, too. But I didn't want to be too confrontational if she was in a talkative mood and if my goal was to get her to stay with me. But I definitely had the feeling that there was more there. Instead of commenting on the issue of her not sleeping well, I said,

"You know, I thought of asking you, before you took off, if you would let me to glamour you into not remembering what happened so... intensely."

"I'd never do that," she said emphatically, looking me right in the eyes.

I met her gaze, which was almost aggressive, and nodded. "I thought you wouldn't. That's why I didn't ask. But I wanted to ask."

I studied her face for a minute more and asked,

"So it's what they did to you that was keeping you from sleeping?"

"In the beginning yes, it was just Neave and Lochlan and what they did to me. But then, over time it got to be other things too, like what they did to Tray or Breandan and his people killing Claudine and Clancy. And sometimes I'd have nightmares that they killed you, or that Bill died. It just got all rolled up into one. But I haven't had one in a long time. Probably not since Christmas. The holidays tend to be really hard, I guess because I feel more alone then or something. Rosie, you know my cat? she's a comfort. And usually when I travel I share with Alla, so if I have a really bad day, which means she had a bad one too, of course, it's not so likely to make me vulnerable because I have someone around. Alla's really great for that. She's very funny and can really help lift me when I feel low. It's hard though, because it's not like I could explain to anyone what happened. They, the FBI that is, wanted me to see a psychologist but it was impossible because of the telepathy. But I couldn't really talk about it anyway, after all. The telepathy was a really convenient excuse."

While she spoke, I leaned against the table and looked at her. She said it was better if she was around others and yet she had _chosen_ to be alone. This I found interesting. She had not taken the easy way out at all. I must have started to look as if I felt sorry for her or something because she seemed to snap out of her confiding mode.

"You said you had to work and I'm keeping you," she said abruptly.

So proud, I thought to myself. Proud, brave, such a survivor, yet still good hearted it seems, in spite of everything that had happened to her. I stood up, nodding, kissed her forehead but said nothing and turned away. There were times when I literally hated myself for having been too proud to tell her I loved her, to force her even, to stay with me if the fairies were around. Whenever I thought back to seeing her in Ludwig's hospital bed something just twisted me inside. Why hadn't I taken the threat more seriously? She'd _killed one_ in her garden and told me about it. Why did I just leave that night, without taking her with me? Because she had been cold? Because I was too proud to fight with a woman who couldn't even admit that she loved me? On a rational level I knew that I was not responsible for what had happened to her. It was that fucking fairy prince grandfather of hers who had dragged her into his mess. But I hadn't helped protect her. Not until she had been grievously harmed. Before that harm, I hadn't done what I might have done to keep her safe.

I pulled back from my thoughts and turned when I heard her take a sharp breath. Her back was to me, so I couldn't see her face. Had she still felt what I was thinking and feeling even though I tried to hold my feelings back from her? She took the Dostoyevsky out of her bag and unwind it from a scarf. She turned and smiled up at me with a really radiant smile. It was genuine, almost as if comforting. My heart lurched looking at her. After everything, after all of it, she could still look at me that way. Perhaps she did not blame me as I thought she had. Or perhaps no longer. I felt warmth course through me as I looked at her.

She said, "I was actually thinking I could just sit and read for a while. I'm almost a third of the way through the book. I'm afraid of Raskolnikov. At best, I'm telling myself that he's mentally ill. But I'm actually afraid everyone is like him in some way or another. It's a very scary book, actually. It makes you think about how we justify our actions."

I smiled back at her, trying to get myself back on track. I nodded.

"That is the crux of why I like this book. The lies we tell ourselves and others to get what we want. Even the most evil person may lie to himself, and think he's doing right. Even in the face of much evidence to the contrary."

"Well, you certainly don' t have to sell me on the idea. Truth can be pretty relative in the world I work in."

"Truth is a little too relative everywhere."

I took her hand and we walked out into the library. Before we exited I turned to her and put my hand on her cheek and bent to kiss her.

"Time to be the big, mean vampire, Lover."

It was going to be a few hours of people standing in line and offering up what was due, or being staked. It was a pleasant contrast to have someone with whom to be gentle, I thought to myself.

I took her to Pam's office where she could sit and read, wait for Bill, and be away from the fray that would be going on the other side of the building. Pam rose as soon as we entered and appeared to be in fine form.

"What? I can _finally_ have a Sookie moment? I am so fortunate. Finally, my friend. Some individuals are just so disinclined to let me share your company. It isn't prudent to name names, however."

I raised my eyebrow and shook my head at Pam. Pam seemed to have some interesting misconceptions at times. Her email from the previous night had several rather confused ideas in it. But she hadn't replied to my reply, so I knew the comment likening her to Cadel had probably annoyed her. As was my intent.

"She's in your care Pam, and I will be busy until at least 2 am. Keep her on this side. I'll make sure they send Bill over here."

"You are certain you will not need assistance?"

Her remark appeared to catch Sookie's attention and she glanced from Pam back to me and looking attentive.

"It will be fine. Cadel is back. With Andor, Markus and Stefan that makes five of us, plus the others. By the way Pam, she likes the Dostoyevsky. She _gets_ the Dostoyevsky," I said nodding at Pam.

"She's finally had too much of your blood or something. You've probably instilled thoughts about what a great writer _you_ think he is. Really, Sookie, you should be more cautious. Eric could glamour a rock," she said with a smile. "But I really thought you could resist him better. You're so adept at telling him no for all kinds of things, why not this?"

Sookie made a skeptical face.

"Well, I'm not sure I'd say I _like_ Dostoyevsky. That's kind of like saying that I like being slapped. At least with _Crime and Punishment_."

I laughed, then leaned over and kissed the top of her head. "Later, Lover. Pam… try to be reasonable. Make an effort."

Before Bill had arrived Pam sent me a message saying she was incredulous that Sookie was still fretting over Clancy and that she had actually almost started crying about it. When she left her with Bill, she came and told me, as we were winding down and Area 2 was looking so much more responsive to reason, that Sookie was worried about what was going on. Her charming former lover (and Pam said it so pleasantly) told her we were staking people over here. She couldn't tell whether Sookie was concerned about who was being staked or whether she was worried about _me_ but, and she looked so amused as she said this, she rather thought the latter. She clearly loved the idea that Sookie was worried about _me_. Meanwhile I wondered why Bill had to mention anything about what was going on in front of her. As useful as Bill was, he continually got on my nerves. As soon as we were finished, I'd go back over to Pam's office and amuse myself. At his expense, of course. Pam became extremely annoyed when she found out that we weren't getting rid of all the Area 2 people who were here. I pointed out that I did actually need people in the Area and should at least _try_ the former Sheriff's second as the new Sheriff. She glared at me darkly and turned after giving me a curt nod. With a sigh, I realized I'd have to listen to much more of Pam telling me that Sookie looked great as a redhead.


	7. Chapter 7

**VII.**

It was finally the way I remembered things. Playful, whispering conversations, sex that was punctuated with laughter, not tears. She was not shy, not sad and I was happier than I'd been in the past four and a half years. This was everything that I remembered. And I was planning to wake up like this for the remaining nights of her stay. Actually, I was determined, not planning. She was lying there, for some odd reason already looking rather fatigued, I thought with a smile, with her head on my shoulder. This time, I would be more cajoling and less demanding, since the latter really appeared to be counterproductive.

"Lover, would you please check out of the hotel? We should stay together while you're here. Just tell your boss you're staying here. That agent can safely come here to check on you. We will be gracious with her as your guest. Or you can see her outside the compound at night. I'll send Rasul and Cadel with you but they can give you space. Or if you prefer in the afternoon, with Tucker's people. I want you here, with me. There's no reason for the hotel for the daytime when you could rest here and it's wasting your hard-earned money."

I was delighted to sense that she was really thinking about saying yes. But still she hesitated.

"How about I continue to pay for the room, but you stay here," I offered. If she wanted that illusion of escape, she could have it.

"No. No, absolutely not, Eric. That's just wrong. I couldn't do that," she said sounding almost offended.

I pulled back from that one. Clearly that tactic would just upset her. I stuck to the softer approach.

"Stay with me, Lover," I whispered in her ear. "I like waking next to you. Stay, min älskade... my Lover."

I could feel her resolve softening. She wanted to stay. I had to keep myself from smiling. So she liked it when I was soft and cajoling… She liked being with me and wanted to stay. I _had_ her. I could feel it. I tried to resist the temptation to press harder.

"Okay," she said quietly after a minute or so. "I'll check out of the hotel and stay here with you."

Just as I started to feel totally delighted, she tensed and I felt a burst of nothing less than panic from her.

"You're afraid, Lover. What are you so afraid of?"

I sat up and leaned over to look at her more closely and she was on the verge of tears. Again.

"I don't know. I just…" she said, almost gasping. "Just forget it, Eric. I'm fine."

She closed her eyes and lay still, but I heard her heart beating faster and faster. Fine? I saw nothing that was fine. She was frightened. Once again, I could smell her fear. I was completely baffled. She was _afraid_ to stay with me?

"You're really afraid of staying here with me, aren't you? But why?"

I put my hand over her heart, gently stroking her breastbone, trying to soothe her. She said nothing. She would not meet my eyes. She continued to breathe as if agitated. I really wanted to understand why, if she loved me, she would be so afraid to be here with me. How could her loving me be so much harder, so much more fraught than my loving her had been for me to accept, I wondered? I l_oved_ her. I had told her repeatedly that I did.

"I never got to choose to be with someone I loved. I never had someone choose to be with me because they loved me. When I was human I married my brother's wife when he died. I liked her. But I didn't love her, at least not in the beginning. For sure, never in love with her. And we had no choice in the matter. It was an alliance of families. When Aude died, I looked around for the most practical match. That was right before I was turned. Then in all this time, after I was free from my sire, I chose… but not for love. And no one ever really chose to be with me because they couldn't really choose. When you have almost total control over someone, what kind of choice can she make?"

She still would not look at me. I stared at her face. She looked cold and distant and I felt that odd sensation of resignation that I had felt several times before from her.

"So you love me basically because you can't glamour me?" she finally said, in a tight voice.

_What?_ But that was totally missing the point…? You love someone because of what they're _not_? Did the woman really think this way? Or did she actually think _I_ did?

"No. Well, maybe that is a part of it, yes, but really… _No_. I love you because you are smart, and you are brave. You have a real sense of honor, of loyalty and you are very brave. I enjoy your humor. Your feistiness. You are beautiful, but many women are beautiful. Beauty does not last, unless you are turned, but even then it is… different, maybe harder edged. Character lasts no matter what. _You_ have character. I like you and that has made it easy to love you. I like few people. But I do also like it that you cannot be glamoured. That is true. If you are with me, it is because you choose to be with me. It is a compliment to have someone truly choose to be with you. But it is more than that. You are interesting and I have never known anyone quite like you. The more I have made you mine, the more I wanted you. I enjoy you. I love you. I _want_ to be with you." I paused and finally said, "So I do not understand why you are afraid or how it is that you think I will hurt you."

I felt her shift slightly under my hand as if she intended to rise.

"We should really get up Eric. It's probably after 10. We'll be really late."

I didn't care if we were late. Pam could keep Amelia amused and even if she wasn't amused, I was a King and I had business for her and so she could wait for it. This was far more important.

"No. We should stay here and work this out now. I asked you long ago if you had a tendency to walk away when things get rocky and I've seen that answer, although I really can't hold leaving Louisiana against you considering what had happened to you. There are other times when you have shown more loyalty and kindness than I could ever have reasonably expected. You have stuck by me many, many times. But you've also wanted to run away from every serious conversation I've ever tried to have with you about us. That habit has caused a lot of problems and I really think we're not going to continue with it."

I spread my fingers out on her chest, making it plain that while I intended to comfort her, I was not letting her out of this bed until she talked to me.

"So tell me, Lover, what is it that you're really afraid of?"

"I told you I don't _know_," she said in an angry tone.

"Sookie, I can tell you _do_ know. What is it? I insist that you tell me what the problem is. Whatever it is. Even if you think it will offend me."

She opened her eyes and looked up at me and then turned away. Instead of keeping my hand on her chest, I turned her face back to mine so she had to look at me.

"You're being foolish, Sookie. This is beyond being stubborn. You said the other day that you had thought many times about how things might have been different if you had come to stay with me in Shreveport when Breandan's people were after you. What if you had? What if you had told me you were afraid and you wanted me to protect you? What if you had really talked to me? What if you trusted me? _What if, now, you actually tried to make this work?_" I said, holding her face more tightly. I was so frustrated with her resistance to just telling me what she was afraid of.

She closed her eyes almost completely as she looked down at my hand holding her jaw.

"What would you have done if I was with someone else when Bill found me in Alexandria, Eric?"

I gnashed my teeth for a moment. What would I have done? I really didn't even want to think about it. Finally, with a heavy sigh I said,

"If I thought you were happy, I would have left you alone." The bitter truth.

"How could you even have known I was happy without talking to me? The bond?"

The bond. _Always the bond_. I gnashed my teeth again. _What_ could she not accept about it? The way I felt had _nothing_ to do with the bond. I'd felt this way _before_ the bond. She felt the way she did before the bond, as I knew the moment the bond was formed. All the bond did was let me better feel how she felt and to offer her reassurance about how I felt about her. It wasn't like I was trying to control her or influence her. And I didn't even need to! I liked how she felt about me. I _liked_ it. I tried not to sound angry.

"The question is pointless. I _knew_ you were not with anyone. Because of the neighbor and because of what Bill learned. And yes, I could feel you were not with anyone because of the bond. I could feel you. I watched you. After Bill had found you, one night I came to Virginia and I watched you through the windows of your apartment. You were so alone. Felt so alone. I went away and thought carefully about what to do. I tried to prevent you from feeling me then, and when I returned, in May. You never trusted the bond. Which is ironic, since if you can't read my mind, it was the surest way to know how I felt about you. But you have always thought it was artificial. Some vampire magic trick. Or just, in general, a trick. You have such serious trust issues, Lover."

"Are you saying you do think it's my fault that I was kidnapped and tortured because I wouldn't go stay with you?"

I looked at her wide-eyed. Was she _serious_?

"No. Of _course_ not. It was your grandfather's fault for not making sure that I knew how serious the situation was when he knew you were mine. And ultimately his fault for not protecting you better himself. Why he left you alone in that house I will never understand. He could have left Dillon with you. Or Claude. He could have moved you elsewhere to safeguard you. It was my fault for not insisting you stay with me, although I did not want to do anything to coerce you since you were so resistant to almost anything I suggested. It was, perhaps, my fault for not having told you then, that night I was with you, that I loved you. Clearly. _In English_. Perhaps then you would have come with me. But I wanted you to say you loved me and you would not admit it, even though I knew you did. You, with your _appreciation_," I said bitterly.

I shook my head and snorted with the bitter recollection of the last time we'd had sex before she'd run away, before the fairies got her and before everything fell apart. That night had left me so confused, so empty, so angry and perhaps even hurt because what I _didn't_ hear from her. I had begun to realize that Pam had been right. I had waited to long, misleading her as to my feelings or intentions, even though we were pledged. I thought time would allow us to work things out. But then it seemed that everything had gone into chaos. I had counted on the bond to let her know my feelings. But she thought it was intrusive, foreign, something artificial to be distrusted. I had left the bond to do the work my pride would not let me do. She had needed words, reassurance, and I gave her nothing, I thought to myself. Months of distance and confusion about how I felt.

"I thought perhaps you hated loving me. You were resentful of me, of the bond. You were so cold. So defensive that night. I was confused by your manner, which was so different from what I had remembered. I thought we would have time to work things out, but everything fell apart. Well, we are two proud and stubborn people and we have paid a heavy price for our pride and stubbornness. You especially so. And then you threw away almost everything. What if I hadn't found you? Hmm? What then, Lover? Were you so happy on your own, totally alone? You were merely getting by. Only half alive inside, so shut down to your emotions. And if you were really honest, you would admit it. Neither one of us has been happy with our choices made in those days. So let's work it out now, once and for all."

She was still silent and I was no closer to knowing what the problem was. She _felt_ as if she loved me. Her actions showed she did. After not having seen me for years, she could not harm me when I first saw her in May even though she believed I was there to harm her. She had come back to Louisiana, against it seemed, her better judgment both because of what her memories were and because of it causing problems with her job. All of which to my mind was a clear indication that she _did_ love me. So why the panic? Why the persistent fear? Why the feelings of resignation, as if she was just sadly giving up.

"Tell me, Lover. Tell me what you are afraid of or what it is that bothers you. What is the problem?"

I still held her face and finally, even though I knew it might anger her, I tried to glamour her, pulling on her mind. Her eyes widened as she felt it and I felt her mentally push me away from her. She could see, though, that I wouldn't give up. Finally, almost gritting her teeth, she said,

"Bill got bored with me, Eric. He was already bored well before he returned to Lorena. You're so exotic and old. You've already seen everything there is to see. And I see myself as just an amusement to you. A challenge and an amusement. I don't even have to worry about the growing old part or any of the rational concerns of such a relationship if it were real. You say you love me. But you'll get tired of me soon enough. I just don't see any chance, really any chance at all, that this will end happily. At least not for me. I meant what I said the other day. I'll just end up brokenhearted. I never loved Bill. At least not the way I love you. You want to talk about someone who's bound becoming a stupid fucking Renfield? Well, I don't even need the bond. I already remember how bad I felt before the bond when you left. There'll be nothing left of me if I let myself stay with you. I was ruined for humans long before I met any of you because of my telepathy. But loving you will just ruin me for everyone and everything else when it's over. It will just bleed the colors and the life away from me. I already have three years of proof that I'll end up totally alone and it will be so much worse if I stay for any extended time with you. I don't even want to know how long this time is going to leave me sad when I go home. And part of me just _hates_ myself for coming here at all, because I really don't want to be unhappy. But that's exactly what I think I'm going to be."

If I had breathed, she would have made me catch my breath. I was caught very off-guard. This was all because she couldn't accept that I really loved her? Because she didn't trust that I was serious? So Pam had been right. All along Pam had been right… I tried not to be offended at being compared to Bill Compton, who might have loved her but had worked his way into her bed and her life based on lies. I was so delighted to think that it might be such a simple problem that could be causing her to feel and act as she had been.

I waited but she said no more, and just swallowed as if she had something bitter, her own words really, in her mouth. A few tears trailed down her cheeks. I tried to take it in, in amazement. _This was it?_ This was _all_? I felt myself nod slightly, and I smiled ever so slightly. There was a simple remedy for this. So simple…

I would prove her wrong.

I kissed her and released her chin, stroking her cheek, and sat up.

"This is better," I said, still nodding. "This I can deal with." I smiled. I was happy.

I got up and started handing her the clothes I'd stripped off her playfully before, and then I started dressing. I hooked her bra for her and adjusted the straps, admiring the color against her skin. So attractive… Something to remove again later. Even though, admittedly, she might be too weary for more. I kissed her shoulder. I watched her finish dressing. She looked and acted flustered. She started brushing her hair after checking her makeup, which I'd tried not to mess up that final time. I smiled as I took the brush from her hands and ran it through my own hair a few times. I was not currently looking very put together or royal, I noted with an amused smile. My hair was really quite a mess. I was frankly too keyed up to think about doing anything with appearance beyond just making it presentable for talking to Amelia. Besides, it was Sunday. I could be as casual as I liked.

"So how are you planning to 'deal' with it?" she said, with a lot of tension in her voice.

I turned to her with a smile. I actually twitched with amusement. I felt quite happy. Light of heart. This would work, I thought to myself. It will all work out. _I have her._ Well, perhaps more considerately, we have each other. Pam was right, and I didn't even care that she'd be impossible about being right.

"I am going to prove you spectacularly wrong. And Lover, I am going to marry you legally. I know what want. I will not change my mind. But I will change yours. If I don't talk you into it now, I will the next time, or the time after that. You _will _believe me. If I waited three years just to see you again, you ought to have a better estimate of my determination. But no matter. You _will_ see. Just try not to lose us too much more time together. That would be something you really should regret. Shall we? We're really approaching embarrassingly late. It's almost 11 pm. On the bright side, all of your worries about seeing Amelia ought to look like, what is the expression… small potatoes? after this little discussion, right?" I winked at her. I really felt so happy.

We walked toward the door to the hall and suddenly I just scooped her up into my arms and kissed her. I felt happier than I had in years. Many, many years.

"So delightfully wrong," I said as I smiled.

I kissed her again, laughed, and put her carefully back down on her feet. I took her hand and we went downstairs to see Amelia.

After she had spent a while talking to Amelia they came looking for me in my office. Amelia and I sat talking about warding various locations. She asked about Sophie-Anne's former estate, which had been badly damaged by Hurricane Katrina. Felipe hadn't really done anything with it. I said I was still undecided whether or not I was going to renovate it.

Pam, Stefan and I had been mulling over the financials of that potential renovation for months at this point. It would be very costly and the estate was largely for show. I was not big on show. A lot of effort for a little gain. And really Felipe had just drained this state's revenues with too many layers of bureaucracy, too many people on his payroll in positions that were redundant. It might be better to just consolidate things financially and be a bit more spartan for a time.

"How do you see her?" I asked, sifting through some other papers on my desk, as Amelia took notes.

"I don't know," said Amelia, hesitantly. "She is still so obviously traumatized about it all. I mean it didn't happen to me, and I really can't imagine it, but I'm amazed that she is still so very affected by it. I guess… the thing is she _looks_ fine now. But she really isn't fine. It's like she blames herself for what happened to Tray. Even Claudine and I mean, it was _their_ war, right? Maybe she needed to be away, to find some other way to be, just to survive it. Sometimes Pam and I have talked about that. Plus, she's had so much bad stuff happen to her, even in addition to the fairies. But even though she seems like she completely rebuilt herself, her life and found something she could do that was really hers away from everything else supernatural, it's all built on that foundation of what happened to her. How do you see her?" She looked up at me with those piercing blue eyes of hers.

"I see her as extraordinary," was all I said.

She was extraordinary. To have been through so much and still be yourself? Amelia was right, I thought to myself. She had had so many bad things happen to her. Even going all the way back to her childhood. I mentally pushed aside Amelia's comments about her finding herself away from everything supernatural. No, she belonged here, at home, I told myself. I would work toward making that clear to her.

I sent Stefan with her to collect her things. I instructed him to make sure she was not charged for canceled nights. She seemed anxious but didn't argue. When they returned and Pam found out that Sookie really was going to be staying for the rest of her visit, she just couldn't miss the opportunity to make some snappy remarks about my keeping her locked in my bedroom at long last and what that might entail. I gave her a dark look. The wry reference to 'Stockholm Syndrome' was really the final straw. She left before I had to offer to throw her out of my office. But Sookie must have known she was kidding around because she didn't seem at all concerned by her banter.

A short time later, we lay in the bed talking, watching the candles flickering.

"So things seemed to have gone easily with Amelia?" I asked.

"Yes. It was easier than I thought it would be, or maybe just… not as painful. Pam told me that you invited Amelia tonight so that I could 'get it over with' on a night when you weren't busy. In case I got upset."

"We really had business to discuss, but yes, I thought it was better to have her come on a night that had few distractions."

As we talked she played with my fingers on my right hand, moving the joints and examining the fingernails. She was still so caught up in blaming herself if her frequent absorption with my hand was any indication.

"Sookie, you really need to let it go."

"Let what go?"

"My hand."

She started and turned to me with a slight gasp, as she quickly started to release my hand as if afraid she was somehow hurting me. I quickly laced her fingers in mine.

"No, that's not what I meant. I meant you need to let go of what happened. To me, to Bill. It wasn't your fault."

I looked at the light flickering across her face, which was unnaturally still. She didn't reply at first.

"I'll never let go of it," she whispered finally, swallowing hard. "And I'll never forget it."

"I don't want you to blame yourself for something that was not your fault. It was my decision. I would make the same choice again."

"Even if it wasn't my fault, it happened because of me. They hurt you _because of me_. I'm not ever going to forget that, Eric."

I felt this flood of emotion from her and she breathed unsteadily. I sighed. It was too raw a topic for her to discuss. I really wished that she had never found out about it at all. I kissed her, then got up and blew out the candles. I got back into the bed and pulled her closer, with her back against my chest, my arm wrapped around her waist.

We were quiet for a while and then she broke the silence.

"What did you think I was going to tell you earlier tonight?" she asked quietly.

"That you wanted children. That you hated the fact that I'm a vampire. Something that I couldn't fix. More about how you hate the bond. Or that you hate the all political bullshit in my life."

She laughed softly.

"That I hated the fact that you're a _vampire_? You have got to be kidding, Eric. It would be a little late for that one, wouldn't it?"

"Considering all the bullshit I have heard come out of your lovely mouth about the bond, frankly, nothing would have surprised me. If I had more sense, I'd be insulted by your doubting my feelings for you, considering our history. But luckily for you I'm not taking it personally. It says volumes about what you've been through is the way I'm looking at that one."

I paused and finally said, "Maybe I was afraid you would never forgive me for not having been able to rescue you from the fairies." Maybe I thought I didn't deserve much forgiveness for it.

She was silent for time then said,

"You did what you could do, Eric. You paid a terrible price for what you were able to do, too. What happened to me was not your fault. You protected me plenty of other times. I guess... It took a while to understand things. I won't lie and say that I wasn't blaming you back then for somehow having let me down or something. But it was unfair. Totally unfair. Then I switched to blaming myself for so many things. I guess that one isn't quite right either. But you _had_ offered to protect me by having me stay with you. I didn't want what you offered because I wasn't ready to admit I needed more protection, or what it implied about you and me. Anyway, I do hate the politics. I really do. It frightens me. But that's just you. It's who you are."

Even if she was still blaming herself for some things, she forgave _me_. Amazing. So all that was left for me to forgive myself for having left her to Niall Brigant's hapless care. Yet again, I thought to myself bitterly that I should have known better than to trust to him. She was not the only one who had trouble forgetting or letting go of guilt. I found myself wanting to erase not just what had happened to her but that entire night when I left her alone. Then I brushed the thoughts aside. It was wasted rumination. What was done, was done. I was determined that we would move forward as we were. I would get her to move back, marry, be happy. We would just move forward from here. That was what I wanted, and I would get what I wanted. I was very good at getting what I wanted. And I was sure that what I wanted would be good for her as well. Even if she thought it was 'high-handed', I thought with amusement. In that moment, lying there, I was finally certain that this would work out. I pulled her closer and was silent as I enjoyed thinking about how well things were going after only two nights.

After another few minutes of quiet, she said, "So my thinking that you're going to get bored with me and totally break my heart is just an easy fix to you?"

If only all problems were so easily fixed… I kissed the back of her head as I felt the sunrise stealing the last of my awareness.

"Yes… my Lover… you're so wrong."


	8. Chapter 8

**VIII.**

In the middle of the call I started feeling agitated, uncomfortable. I actually put the call on hold for a moment. Then I felt a white hot anger and it wasn't _mine_. I stood for a moment and Stefan looked over at me puzzled.

"What is it?" he asked in Swedish.

"I… don't know. I… just text Andor and check to see if everything is alright with them."

I went back to my call and within less than a minute felt as if I'd been struck. I felt alarmed. Had she actually been hit? How could that be possible? She was very, very angry. But the feelings subsided relatively quickly and I finished my call.

Stefan had reappeared and looked at me as if concerned about how whatever he had to say would go over.

"Just spit it out," I said looking at him apprehensively. Clearly something _had_ happened.

"Andor says there was a scuffle."

"A scuffle? What the fuck does he mean by a scuffle, Stefan?"

"He doesn't say but says that everything is fine now and that they are enjoying themselves."

"Oh really?"

"Well, if Andor says it's fine, I'm sure it's fine, don't you think?" Stefan said with a sparkle in his eyes. "Now, if Cadel said it was fine, I'd think they were in a burning building playing cards or something, but it's Andor saying it's fine. Do you want me to call Pam?"

"No point. Her phone will be in her purse and in that place she is not likely to hear it. So he says it's fine now?"

"Yes, and he was very firm about it."

"Did he say what had happened in this… scuffle?"

Stefan shook his head 'no'.

I no longer felt more than residual agitation. But I really thought she had been hit and I knew that she had been very angry. I was actually taken aback at how angry she'd felt. The few times that she'd been angry with me since the bond simply paled in comparison to how angry this felt. I would wait to get my answers…

I met with several people, returned my calls, then worked through the endless paperwork and email. I was not ever going to delegate the way Felipe and Sophie-Anne had. I agreed with Stan. Distancing yourself and depending too much other others to conduct the business of running your state was the road to disaster and a quick end. Pam and Stefan pre-reviewed things for organization and then I reviewed them. Stefan was in charge of paperwork, scheduling, negotiations, Pam handled all the financials and various other sensitive details. Some things I still did exclusively myself, and I had nightly contact with all my Sheriffs, though Area 2 currently had my special attention, since I had a brand new Sheriff. I read every paper, every statement, signed every check and reviewed every account. Cadel did all the investigative work and was the background security while Andor and Markus were the sizable presence of foreground security. So far, this was working well. But work was exactly what it was. Quite a bit of work. But being Sheriff of a large area for a good sixty years had prepared me well for the work.

When they finally made their way back to the compound it was 3:45 am, I was done with work and was reading in my office. Stefan directed them into the office and then made a quiet exit. I looked at her and immediately zeroed in on a slight flush on her left cheek. And then there was the odd way she stood, with her right arm behind her back, her left hand appearing to clasp it. I rose and walked over to the five of them. I tipped her chin up and looked at the cheek, comparing one side of her face to the other. It looked ever so slightly swollen. So someone had hit _my wife_ in the face? And what was the business with her arm, I wondered? I had never seen Sookie stand in that posture the entire time I'd known her. I turned her around and carefully removed the jacket. I stared at her forearm. Now that she was so fair skinned, without a tan, the bruises really stood out. But how could such a thing be possible? Pam shifted nervously, her eyes widening as she took in the bruises. They had clearly lost control of the situation and someone had hurt her. Handing her the jacket, I pointed Sookie toward the chair in front of my desk. She looked at me apprehensively but went and sat down. Then I turned to Andor and stood about four inches away from him.

"Andor, would you like to tell me why _my wife_, who was in _your care_ has bruises on her arm and was apparently hit in the face?"

He met my eyes coolly.

"Ja, she got into a fight with this guy at the bar because he was being rude and upsetting some human woman sitting at the bar. She got up and was telling the guy off and before we realized what was happening, he grabbed her and then he hit her. She mostly dodged his hit. She is quite fast for a human. If it's any consolation, she literally beat him up and he was much bigger than she is. He looked substantially worse than she does when she was finished with him and I guess he's been arrested. She can really _fight_, this one. She had him down on the floor in no time. It all happened very fast."

I listened, nodding, and tried to compose myself as I stared hard at Andor. His words were simply unbelievable.

"She is fast for a human? She can really fight? That's _fantastic_." My fangs ran down, and I felt my eyes glow bright as they coursed over the four of them and came to rest on Pam, who now looked very nervous. "Let me see… how many of you were there? Four? Do I see _four _vampires who work for me? And the human, the 5' 6" tall _human_ is the one fighting? The one who gets hit? The one who is fast? Is that how it was? Really? And it was all so fast that a vampire couldn't intervene? Interesting. _**How incompetent could all of you be?!**_ If this is what you do protecting _her_, what can we count on for the rest of us? Protecting a human is too hard for you all, is it? I can think of a few jobs the four of you might be better suited for if this is too much of a challenge for you." Cadel started to shift almost imperceptibly. I pointed directly at him with narrow eyes and hissed, "Not so fast. Slow down, Cadel, maybe to the speed that you had when _my wife_ was getting hit. Because you are not dismissed yet, not any of you." I glared at Rasul, who looked at me and cast his eyes downward but I saw surprise in them that I was so angry at them. I turned to Pam. "And you did not catch this in time because? Because _why_ Pamela? Because you don't _know _her? Because you've never seen her get into trouble before?"

I could hear Sookie shift in her seat and start to open her mouth, which I would have absolutely none of. I spun around to glare at her, just pointing. _Don't you DARE,_ I shouted mentally. She bit her lip and was silent. I turned back to the four of them.

"Just get the fuck out! Get out! All of you!" Pam started to drop to her knees and looked as if she wanted to say something. "I don't even want to hear it. And you don't want to hear what else I'd have to say to any of you. OUT! You're _useless_, the lot of you…"

Cadel stepped slightly to the front of Pam and took her arm, pushing her slightly behind him. He and Andor both looked at me cautiously and made me even angrier. Did they actually think I'd strike _her_, my _child_? How insulting. I glared at Andor and Cadel. When had they _ever_ seen me strike a woman because I was angry? _Ever._ This wasn't a fight, it wasn't a war. Still they kept an eye on me as they went out. I saw the four of them look back at me from out in the hallway, and Stefan and Markus standing behind them. I slammed the door shut.

I walked over to my desk and picked up my book and just glowered at her. _I would keep her safe, if she came to Louisiana_, I'd said. _No one_ _would touch her_. Perhaps I should have qualified it? _There would be no fairies?_ _No Nevada vampires after her? _But how did one go about preventing her from getting herself hurt? Perhaps, as Pam had suggested last night, I should simply tie her to the bed and… frankly, best not to go too far with that thought in my present frame of mind. I paced for several minutes to cool off. I was so mad I couldn't even read. Finally, I decided to just call it a night and go upstairs.

"Let's just go upstairs, shall we?" I said with my voice sounding tight.

"Eric, I…"

I cut her off. "Sometimes, silence is preferable. _This_ would be one of those times," I said acidly.

We passed Andor and Markus in the hall. Andor still looked me right in the eyes, although he looked grim. Markus looked down deferentially.

She kept quiet as we walked upstairs, went into my rooms and then she started to undress. Eventually, she just couldn't help herself.

"Eric, you need to stop with the overkill on the safety stuff okay? I can take care of myself. Nothing's happened to me in more than three years, remember? I had that guy on the floor in less than five seconds after he hit me. I've been trained by the FBI with one of the best Krav Maga instructors in the country. Krav Maga is very 'him or me' and not all nice and pretty and sense of honor like martial arts. They train you how to incapacitate people and even how to kill them if you have to. He barely left a mark on me and I could have dislocated his shoulder, broken his wrist or crushed his larynx with what I did to him. When it comes to humans, for the most part, I have it well covered, okay? Especially if it's only one at a time and there are no weapons. Nothing really happened."

I stood there looking down at her and nodded my head slightly. Yes, if it was possible for a vampire to have blood boil, mine was. It had been bad enough listening to Andor's description, but hers was just over the top. _She was proud of herself!_

"I really don't think there is another person I know of who can piss me off the way you can."

I balled up my shirt and flung it into the laundry basket and stormed out of the room. I really needed to get some space, calm down, and cool off. Or I was going to end up scaring her and that would undo everything from the past few days. I sat at my desk, put my feet up and searched on the internet for information on Krav Maga. I tried to calm myself while reading but all I could think of once I started reading was that the FBI trained their people to use this method because they thought they might _have_ _to use it _and then I started thinking about her in Iraq, or Pakistan or… anywhere she went where obviously anything could happen to her. It made me mad all over again. She had been trained to fight and to shoot. To kill if she had to. And why? _Why?_

I heard her shifting, getting out of the bed and then coming to stand in the doorway.

"Eric?"

I tensed.

"I am still mad."

"But nothing happened. It was fine."

I turned and looked at her. _Fine?_ It was _fine_? In what world was this fine? Certainly not one in which I was in charge.

"Stubborn woman, just go to bed!" I snapped in Swedish, with a wave of my hand. "Just go to bed. _Unbelievable!_"

"I'm not a child, Eric. I'm not a child to be sent to bed."

"Well, sometimes you act like one. A danger to yourself is what you are."

"It's not fair to tell me off in a language I don't understand."

I was mixing Swedish and English and I didn't even care if she understood me. Probably it was better if she didn't because I had _nothing_ good to say about her judgment or her intolerable job.

"Like it's not fair the only person you want to fuck is out to get herself hurt all the time? Yes, you should be glad I'm mad in another language because you wouldn't like what I have to say to you at all. And you shouldn't be eager to be around angry vampires, either. Just go to bed and when I'm no longer so angry, I'll join you." I turned back to my laptop and kicked at something on the desk.

She pisses me off, I thought to myself. _Seriously_ pisses me off. The last time I had gotten really angry because of her, when she had taken off, I had broken things in the club and really annoyed Pam and Maxwell. I had to be careful. It was a bad juncture to scare her with my temper. I had just gotten her to agree to stay and didn't want her getting scared enough to want to leave.

Forty minutes later I was calm enough to go back into the bedroom. She was already in the bed, but it didn't sound like she was asleep. I stripped off my clothes and got into the bed with her.

"How did you know? I looked in the mirror and it didn't leave a mark. How did you know?" she asked quietly.

"In the middle of a business call, I felt your growing edginess and then finally anger. Then I could tell you had been hurt or hit or both. When you returned I could still see something slight on your face. A flush on one cheek. Your cheek was slightly swollen, actually. But clearly, you were edgy and trying cover something up. You stood with your arms behind your back, which isn't even the way you usually stand. So I look at the arms and find one bruised. And then, of course, there is Andor's description of what happened. You pursued the situation, Lover and you were proud of yourself for it. For a complete stranger, when you had plenty of help at hand. You had to do it on your own. You still always think you can handle things but I'm always going to remember the time you couldn't and you didn't ask for the help you really needed."

"I can't live the entire rest of my life based on that one time, Eric."

"You're lucky to still be living it at all after that one time. We're both lucky you are. You have an uncanny knack for finding trouble, or for it finding you. And you're so quick to take risks. For people you don't even know. Just like you did in Jackson. In all this time nothing has changed and you have no more sense now than you did then. You're so resistant to asking for or accepting help. I said you would be safe here and you still find a way to get yourself hurt. It's infuriating. Just… don't get me started again."

"You actually felt what I felt that night?"

"Yes, I did. I felt your pain, your fear, your desperation. And I tried to send you strength, as much as I could spare it, to get you to survive until Bill and Niall could find you. But I guess the current was too strong the other way for you to even realize it. It was excruciating. I will never forget that night."

"So if I get myself hurt, it hurts you, is that what you're saying? It could potentially be incapacitating?"

"For a smart woman you are so dense at times, Sookie. The worst part to me is not the pain. I can take pain. Pain is always temporary. It is my knowing that something is happening to you and being unable to do anything to help you that is my problem, the very worst part of the bond. You have to remember what the bond is, why it is used. It creates a servant, a slave, someone to do your bidding. Such a person is expendable. The feelings of pain or suffering would serve only as a warning to the vampire who controlled such a servant. You can just cut yourself off from them and be indifferent if you wish. You usually never allow yourself to actually feel what a bound servant feels. Why would you want to? But if you love the person to whom you are bound? Sure, who in their right mind would want to feel the suffering of someone they loved? But who could just tune it out? It is bad enough without the bond to know someone you love is harmed. But to feel the emotions of that harm to them and not be able to do anything? It was more excruciating than if they had been doing what they did to you, to me." And try dealing with your people rebelling about assisting you and fighting with fucking Victor Madden during the whole ordeal, I thought to myself silently. Thinking by the time I got to you, Bill would have found you in tatters.

"Why did you even offer to be bound to me, Eric? Agreeing to do it made you more vulnerable. You didn't even remember being with me, my taking care of you, or any of it. Why did you offer yourself as Andre's proxy? I just don't get it."

"I couldn't stand the thought of your being bound to him, of what he could have done to you. The idea was deeply offensive to me. I didn't need to remember. I felt the way I felt, whether I remembered why or not. You were mine. I didn't want to lose you. Certainly not to him, not in such a way. Even though I knew he'd make me pay for crossing him, it was worth the risk. Both the risk with Andre and the long-term risk of having the bond at all. It would be great if you didn't try to compound that risk with every choice you make, however," I said rather acidly.

She seemed to wince. _Good_, I thought to myself. About time you start to notice that there might be reasons, beyond just yourself, to care about your choices.

"I will try. I'll really try to be more considerate, Eric. But just remember, if I change too much about me because of what happened with Neave and Lochlan, they will have won, even if they're dead. They will have cut something essential out of my being me."

I pulled her closer and said "It's not always about winning, Sookie. Sometimes it's just about surviving," in a low voice in her ear.

At the time, I thought this was an argument. The following night, however, we _really_ argued. Arguing, with the additional factors of our bond, not being able to glamour her or do anything to compel her, turned out to be rather challenging. I had never argued with someone bound to me. It simply was _not possible_. Sometimes I really thought that she had taken the bond and made it work in _her_ favor.

It had started out as a simple conversation about relationship issues while enjoying the sauna. In the beginning I was actually pleased to find that she didn't even mind the fact that I was cold. My goal was just to clarify how we would get this all to work if she really insisted working in Virginia for a while longer. I was perplexed by the fact that she seemed to have no interest in asking me if I could be faithful to her. I took this to mean that she wasn't taking me seriously.

Her take on my fidelity was that I should follow my heart. _Follow my heart?_ What I had been doing for the past three and a half years? For an instant I considered telling her but then discarded the idea. I had no intention of discussing my celibacy unless she directly asked me what I'd been up to. I was amazed at Pam's restraint on the matter, frankly, since she had found it rather amusing that a human had 'done this' to me.

"I'll be faithful to you. I just want you to visit regularly, Lover. Maybe every other week? Your living here would be ideal, if they would let you work from here. Perhaps if we get mar…"

She cut me right off.

"Oh no. No you don't. Not that discussion. Not again. I'm not talking anymore about moving anywhere right now, Eric. We already covered that earlier. And the second thing, just… you really need to chill on that one. I've still got 24 days of paid time off. That's one week a month for a few months. Assuming I still have a job when I go back, I can come once a month for a week."

"What about when you run out of vacation days? That's only three months."

She looked at me as if she couldn't believe I was asking her this question. I felt this rush of anger from her.

"I'm getting stressed out. Cut it out," she said, sounding edgy. "Just… quit badgering me already."

_Badgering_? I was asking a simple question about what the plan was. I tried to project calm as I looked at her. But she then just seemed to explode. Suddenly she was so angry…

"We do not have to talk about every fucking detail of everything right now, do we? You _said_ that you would give me time, Eric. You _said_ you could be patient. That was what, all of about twenty minutes ago? I don't even know what I'm going to be doing in two weeks. I may be out of a job, or have problems if the FBI gets all weirded out about us and tries to stash me somewhere to convince me to give you up to stay with the Bureau on their terms. They're going to be sure that you're glamouring the hell out of me to get information or some stupid shit like that. You can't even begin to imagine how these people think, especially my boss's boss. It's going to take my convincing them that I can't be glamoured and that I'm not a big risk and that neither are you. And in the meantime I get to worry that they're going to get all nasty with you and that you'll get all kinds of IRS or Homeland Security shit thrown at you because you made the major mistake of thinking you had some prior claim on me or my life. Let me just try to deal with it all my way, okay? And please, just let me have some peace right now. Peace, with you. A _simple_ concept, Eric."

It was as if her anger fed me. I felt myself tensing up and my eyes glow as I listened to her. I wanted to know how this was going to work and how soon she would be back here, at home, as in living _here_. And I was _sick_ of hearing about the job. No matter how good she was at it, no matter how she tried to spin it, it was dangerous and I didn't like what it represented. I hated the job. It represented everything keeping her away from me at the present.

"I know what you do is important, Sookie. You have every right to be proud of your work. I know it's important work and that you are probably quite good at it. But I wish you were still a barmaid. I hate your job, I hate its risks. I hate it that they may pressure you not to be involved with me. I hate the _whole_ thing."

I realized too late how angry I was. I had been trying to be so calm up to that point. It was as if her anger reverberated in me, feeding my own. And her response… What had Cadel said? She looked like a real spitfire? She got right up in my face and looked at me with eyes like white hot steel. She was practically hissing she was so angry. The _temper_ on her…

"Gee, really? Yeah, I think I've noticed that, Eric. It's my _job_, though. And I'm not quitting it just because _you_ have qualms. I'm sorry if my job is an impediment to _your_ plans. No matter what goes on between us, or what your plans are, I'm going to continue to work. At this job or at whatever the hell job I want to work at. Period, end of story. And I hope you can sense that I am getting totally and completely pissed off with your attitude about my desire to work. If you think I don't know what you really think or what you'd really like, you're kidding yourself. You're not sweet talking me into a damn thing or fooling me with the oh, so calm and cool, _relentless_ discussion. And for the record, pissing me off about my work is not a good plan if you want me visiting you or if you want any serious relationship with me at all. So you had better cut it out. This is _not_ a negotiation. My decision is already made."

I stared at her. I was not used to be spoken to in such a manner. At least not by anyone I would have to continue to deal with for any length of time. In fact the last person to speak to me in a similar fashion had ended up on the sharp end of a stake several nights before. Not an option here, of course… But I felt as if the blood between us was on fire. I could just let go of some of my anger because I could feel so much of hers that it was enough to keep me going. It felt like she was almost inside me with her anger and her angry thoughts. What was she even saying? The job was more important than trying to work this out? If this _was_ going to work, and I refused to think otherwise, we needed a plan for more than three months. Three months was nothing after three and a half years. I wanted to know what she would do when she ran out of vacation time. And what if they refused to let her keep the job if she remained involved with me? What then? Just thinking about it made me pull myself up short. While usually feeling I couldn't control things would make me angrier, now I just felt chary.

"And if they pressure you to make a choice, what will you do?" I asked quietly.

She seemed caught off guard by my change in tone and looked at me for a long time before replying. I had this peculiar sense when she looked at me sometimes. What did she feel from me? I wondered. After a few moments she replied, in a much softer tone herself,

"What would I do? Let's just say that if they are intrusive into my private life, I'm not going to be very receptive to the idea, okay? But it's more than that. You already know how I'd react to the idea of your asking me to quit my job. Think about how I'd feel about them asking me to give up someone I love just because they say so, Eric. It's kind of a no-brainer, if you ask me. If that were the deal, you have nothing to worry about, okay? I promise you."

I looked at her closely. She really meant it. I slowly relaxed. For all her fire and her determination to keep working, she was now saying this meant more. For the first time in a month and half, I saw the beginning of her wondering if maybe, just maybe, I was actually serious. I could also see the unspoken question in her mind- could she actually trust my intentions?

It was clear, as I saw a short time later with Cataliades, that she trusted me completely, if not almost blindly, for some things. Really odd things. Like asking me to be the executor of her estate if her job got her killed, of course while kidding herself that I didn't understand that was exactly what she meant when she asked. So I was trustworthy enough to be her executor for tens of millions of dollars but not trustworthy enough for her to just pick up, move back home and get married? She obviously was not at all concerned that I could kill her and just take the money. No, when it came to something like that, she trusted me completely. Interesting philosophy.


	9. Chapter 9

**IX.**

I'd felt something almost identical once before. When she got knocked out when Bill and the weretiger fought. But she'd been hit several times this time. And then it was like I could feel her but not feel her, almost as she was when asleep. I rose to leave the Commission meeting immediately, Andor and Markus following after me, looking puzzled. My phone vibrated as we reached the car and I told Stefan that I was already on my way back.

She was unconscious. Pam had given her a bit of blood, saying she hoped I didn't mind but that she and Stefan didn't know what else to do other than call 911 and 911 wasn't going to be able to do anything faster than our blood. It was fine. Pam also said she thought she had broken ribs. Stefan confirmed that she'd been kicked several times according to Rasul.

"Who did this?" I asked, turning to Stefan and Pam as I picked her up and sat down on the couch, putting her into my lap. She wasn't totally out of it because she moaned when I picked her up.

Stefan bowed his head and said soberly.

"Rasul says it was Charlotte McCann who did it."

I paused for a moment as I took that information in and then glanced at Pam. Pam had been complaining about that woman from the moment she'd cast off Cadel and taken up with Stefan. She'd never liked her.

Pam read from her cell phone,

"Hit twice with an iron skillet in the kitchen, knocked down by the time Rasul grabbed Char. Rasul heard the first hit, saw the second as he rushed Char. When he pulled Char away Char was kicking her in the ribs. Just charming no? Such a keeper, this Char. I'm telling you that Ruben is the best investment of my blood I'll ever make here. He said something was off with her from the beginning and he sees them all more than we do. She's been after you since the first day she arrived Eric, and none of you will listen because I'm just the second and couldn't possibly have intelligent information, now could I? _No._ Well, I hope Rasul's drained her dry and if she isn't yet, I'll finish her personally but maybe after waking her up to have a bit of fun with her for what she did to my friend."

"Go check on things. I clearly don't have to tell you this is totally and completely unacceptable. _I want it resolved_. But quickly, Pam. No drama. Nothing cruel." I said jutting out my jaw. I was mindful of the fact that this was Stefan's woman we were talking about, even if I knew that measures had to be taken to assure that it would never happen again. I looked up to meet his eyes and he nodded curtly.

I shifted Sookie in my lap so that she leaned back against my chest, held her around the waist and steadied her head with my chin. I tore open my wrist. They left as I pressed my bleeding wrist to her mouth.

It was a few minutes before she began to come around. I relaxed with her weight against me and sighed. I loved the feel of her being on me. But not the feel of the fact that for the second time in less than a week she had gotten hurt. This time, if Pam's theories were correct, _because_ of me. It was intolerably frustrating. The amount of trouble having a human companion engendered was really something. I was going to have to redouble my efforts to be sure that nothing like this ever happened again. What kind of keeping her safe was this? Well, I could fume later. I didn't want to have her recover to feeling my anger.

She stirred. I released her head a bit and kissed the side of her head, then her temple.

"How do you feel? Your head is better? That should be enough. You had some of Pam's, too," I said softly. I pressed gently on her ribs and she didn't wince.

"MmmHmm. Better. What… what happened? The last thing I remember was going downstairs to get something to eat and…" she groaned her hand flew to the back of her head. "Someone hit me in the head. Hard. I realized too late that she was going to hit me. It was like the idea just popped into her head on the spur of the moment. Freaky. It was such a spontaneous thing. Who is she?"

"Charlotte. A resident. A resident donor. You must have sensed it enough to move out of her way a bit because Rasul said she had to hit you a second time before you went down. He got to her then, but she kicked you in the ribs as he pulled her away. She must have had heavy shoes. But I think you are healed."

"Is it really okay that I had even more of your blood, Eric? I had Pam's blood, too? I mean isn't there a point where it just gets to be too much and…"

"You hadn't had any in three years, Lover. You've only had a bit since you've been here. And you haven't lost your own blood this time, so it's not like it was when you were injured that time and needed so much. It will be fine. You'll just have to trust me. I can feel how much would be too much. And you were really injured by the woman. Pam gave you a bit to slow down whatever was going on because you lost consciousness. She was very worried."

She seemed tense and I felt her apprehension. I thought she was just worried about being turned but she surprised me.

"What are you going to do with her, this Charlotte person? She's a human, right? What are you going to do with her, Eric?"

"I believe that Rasul and Cadel have already taken care of things."

I felt her cringe in my arms.

"What does 'taken care of things' mean, Eric?"

I leaned around to look at her more and said,

"I'm not sure, but since Rasul really likes you, I'm not thinking it means anything particularly good for her. And considering that you were knocked out and beaten up in my own compound, I really don't give a damn what they do with her, Sookie. They could string her up and have a feast for all I care. It would probably be better than what I'd do to her, I assure you. You should be glad I wasn't here. As soon as Pam is back, I'm going downstairs to have a little conversation with the rest of the residents to make a few things abundantly clear. No one is ever going to touch you here again."

I felt her starting to feel very agitated and anxious. She shuddered slightly as she said,

"Eric, you weren't sleeping with her, were you? You wouldn't… you wouldn't let them kill someone you'd slept with if she was jealous and attacked me, right? Because she was jealous."

Well, clearly Pam was right on the mark with her feelings about the woman. I didn't reply right away.

"Eric?" she asked again, with an edge to her voice, turning her head back toward mine.

Maybe I should just tell her the truth, that I was celibate the entire time, too, I thought to myself. That I was too angry at myself, too upset at having lost her, and as I started to heal, I was completely determined to get her back. I was silent for another minute and then finally said,

"She was Cadel's. And then Stefan's. I had never even fed from her, Lover. I was not interested. I have not been interested in anyone other than you for some time."

She seemed as if she was going to say something but then Pam knocked and entered. She looked at Sookie carefully.

"She's fine," I said. I put her down gently on the couch after rising. "I'm going to go and have a little chat with people downstairs."

"How many humans live here?" she asked as I put her down.

"About twenty-five, at any given point. Sometimes more when we have guests. Pam, keep an eye on her."

She reached out and took my hand and said, "Eric, if she's still there, you can't let them kill her, okay? I mean you just can't. Make her leave, or let me call the police and press charges against her, but you guys can't just kill her. She did it to me, and I'm telling you, it's wrong. It's just wrong."

Was she kidding me? A donor in my compound attacked her, could have killed her, and she thought I could just let this slide? How could she not see what an invitation that would be to anyone that came afterward with a similar plan? Sometimes I wondered if she was kidding herself about what I was. My world had far fewer shades of gray and she was more valuable to me on many, many levels than any other living person in this building or frankly, anywhere that I could think of. And not just to me. I saw out of the corner of my eye that Pam was shaking her head with complete disapproval. She seemed very angry about something. Something was not right downstairs. I just looked down at Sookie coolly and then left the room to see what was going on.

When I got downstairs I found Stefan talking with Ruben in the kitchen. Rasul and Cadel had evidently taken the woman somewhere but I was appalled to find in listening to Stefan talking to Ruben that they took her to a hospital because she was still alive. I snapped my fingers and pointed toward the kitchen door, dismissing Ruben and then turned to Stefan.

"What do you mean? What do you mean she's still alive, Stefan? Where is she?"

Stefan grimaced and then looked at me as if he knew I'd be very angry with what he was about to tell me.

"Rasul decided that Sookie would be _upset_ if he killed Char. He'd almost drained her, then thought better of it. He and Cadel argued about it but Rasul had known Sookie longer and he said she'd be very, very upset if they killed her. He managed to convince Cadel of his point. So he gave her a bit of blood to bring her around, they glamoured her, cleaned her up and they planned to dump her at a hospital. Pam and I came down after they'd already left. Pam is pretty ticked off about it. I spoke to Cadel a few minutes ago and he said they were almost back. They should be here any minute."

"Cadel let Rasul do this? What the fuck was he _thinking?_ Do I have a cell phone? Did anyone think of asking Pam a fucking thing since I wasn't in the building? Do we have a protocol?"

Stefan, looked down deferentially and nodded.

"I was upstairs with Pam and Sookie," he said quietly. He hesitated and then said, almost reluctantly, "They did not call her." Then he looked up and his eyes seemed to widen. I heard them walking out in the garage and then in the hallway.

I turned and waited to see Cadel and Rasul in the doorway.

Within an instant of their arrival, I lunged at them and tossed each of them in succession into the wall. I loomed over Rasul as I pulled him up and pressed him into the wall.

"If you ever make a decision about something like this again without consulting Pam or me, I'll either stake you personally or leave you in silver for a few months until you have a better appreciation for the chain of command. She tried to kill my _wife._ Your purported _friend_. Consider it an attack on _me,_ Rasul. You're not in a position to make decisions of this sort based on what the human wants. You are here doing what _I_ want. _Never forget that._ Now, get out!"

I tossed him out of the kitchen, slammed the door and then I walked over and pulled Cadel up off the floor by his hair and slammed him into the wall, punching his chest to hold him in place against the wall.

"So tell me, brother. At what point did it become your policy to listen to an underling versus listening to Pam or to me? Because if this is your plan, I will personally buy you your ticket back to Munich and you can return to scrounging for a living as you were when the invitation was extended. Here it is my way, Cadel. In all things, it is _my _way."

His glittering brown eyes stared at me coolly and he said, gritting his teeth in obvious discomfort,

"And yet, Eric, it still seems to me that as Rasul says, your lady might prefer things handled differently from you. She is, after all, the wounded party and surely her wishes should count for something. I think it's very clear to every human down here that what happened put Char in a position to be dealt with as we wish. And your wife is associated with the criminal justice system, is she not?" he grunted suddenly with the pressure of my fist still on his chest. "Do you really think it was really in _your_ interest to have Char killed and be trying to explain that to her? Would she really accept that? Our killing someone who attacked her? In the end, I sided with Rasul because what Rasul said made better sense. Char was almost dead. Everyone saw it, heard her screams. Rasul and I glamoured her into not remembering anything. She will not be back. And there will be no further problems, _brother_."

Sometimes Cadel's confidence was simply amazing to me. Stefan was standing warily off to the sidelines and his concern was evident in his tense stance. The best of friends, my two younger siblings, in spite of seeming at times literally to be like night and day. How the woman had gotten passed off from one to the other I couldn't even begin to speculate. Cadel was so odd at times. He must not have liked her much, I thought to myself, if he let her go to Stefan so easily. He said he didn't kill her because Rasul said it would upset Sookie but I wondered. Personally, I thought he also wasn't keen to help kill a woman he'd been involved with. Could I really fault him on that, I thought to myself? Maybe it was just too much to ask. Asking too much bred hatred, as four of us here knew all too well. Really, I wouldn't have wanted to have to do such a thing, either. I released my hold on him.

"_Never again_. Next time you get Pam and if you can't get Pam, you think like me if you can't contact me. Are we clear, Cadel? The second time in three nights that I take issue with you, even if it _is_ over a human. If you are backup security, you will do better than this or I will send you on your merry way. If Charlotte McCann is even seen near this compound or any other location I frequent, she is to be disposed of. If you can't do it yourself, you find someone who can. Are we clear?" I asked looking at the two them because I was sure Stefan was even _less_ likely of being able to do it. In a fight, Stefan was shrewd, strategic and quick to gain the final advantage. But when it came to causing harm to others outside such situations, he had always really suffered at the idea of causing anyone harm. I would never put him in such a position to do so as our sire had.

Cadel nodded. "Agreed. But she won't be back, Eric." He rubbed his chest gingerly. "Fucking hell, did you have to punch me on top of it?" he murmured in a thick Welsh accent. Then he ran his fingers through his hair, grimacing at me.

I swung at him as if to go for him again and he literally seemed to evaporate, laughing as he went, and seeming to reappear instantly behind Stefan. He leaned close to Stefan and said in a conspiratorial fashion,

"I'm telling you, no matter what you say, he's more full of himself than Andor ever could be. Cocksure that one. But I still think I'm faster than either of them. Fucking Vikings. What was our sire's obsession with them?"

Stefan looked at me apprehensively to see if I had cooled off a bit. After sensing that I had, he leaned back and said to Cadel,

"Not wise. Technically, I'm one, too. At least descended from them."

"What? _You?_ _University_ boy? Dream on," said Cadel rumbling with laughter.

"I'm so sorry to interrupt your usual banter," I said acidly, "but I want to Stefan to make it clear to the residents that if any of them goes after Sookie that it will not be tolerated."

"Well, let's collect them, then," said Cadel jovially. "This should be fun after all the excitement with Char. We should get some serious squeals of terror if we try."

Stefan shook his head ruefully at Cadel and they left to collect the residents. I went back upstairs, passing Andor on his way down. I went briefly to my office after collecting Markus and met for a few minutes with several Area 3 vampires about an ongoing development. Stefan reappeared and the Area 3 people departed. Stefan said he wished to apologize to Sookie. We went to Pam's office, where things now seemed tense between Pam and Sookie.

Stefan bowed his head and apologized to Sookie. I watched as she blushed and clearly did not understand. She said, in response to his apology,

"Stefan, you cannot possibly be held responsible for the actions of another, independent person. There is nothing to apologize for, so I can't accept your apology."

Stefan looked quite dismayed.

"Thank you for bringing me back upstairs," she offered.

In the end, I just waved him off. I looked at her, just shaking my head.

"Because she was his, he _is_ held responsible according to custom. He believes that you do not forgive him for the offense."

"Well, I guess you're going to have to explain my pathetic human rationale to him Eric, because I'm not forgiving him for something he had absolutely nothing to do with, okay? To me, that would be insulting him. I'm supposed to be _yours_, right? _You _fix it," she said in a snide tone.

Pam and I glanced at each other. Clearly some of the finer workings of our way of doing things were still quite obscure to Sookie. And she was clearly getting annoyed.

She rose and said, "I'm going downstairs to get something to eat."

I stiffened a bit. I wasn't sure that was a good idea. We hadn't had time to put any real means of keeping her safe downstairs in place. I wanted to talk to Cadel about keeping a better eye on residents. And I wasn't sure I wanted Rasul keeping track of her. He had always liked her, but he was too quick to take Sookie's point of view into consideration. And I didn't know him well enough to trust to his ability to react entirely as needed if something arose. While I wasn't thrilled with Cadel's making his own choices about the situation with Char, Cadel usually had an excellent ability to respond instantly to changing circumstances. And what to do during the day, while we were not available? No, we would have to make better arrangements.

"Let me have whatever you wish brought up to you."

"I'm fine. I really feel fine. And I'm hungry. Pam said that the woman isn't even in the compound anymore, so it should be fine."

"I would prefer to have something brought up for you. At least for tonight. We're all getting ready for the rest of the work for tonight. I would prefer to have you accompanied in future."

She crossed her arms and looked at me with an expression that said 'you've got to be kidding.'

"So then it's not even safe for me to go downstairs on my own and get something to eat? Geez, my instincts were right all along. Iraq _is_ safer than Louisiana. Who knew?"

She could have slapped me and I would have taken it better. She was comparing staying here with me, in _my _compound, to _Iraq_ and saying Iraq was safer?

I saw Pam look away, biting her lip.

At least she looked as if she was instantly sorry she'd said it. And she'd only said it to me in front of Pam, who already knew what she was like. Still, I just stared at her, trying not to get angry. She sat back down.

She paused a moment and sat nervously looking at her hands. I could clearly see she felt quite bad now that she'd said it. She finally looked me straight in the eyes and said,

"Okay. I'll let you get something sent up. And I apologize for what I said. I am actually ashamed of what I said. It was mean. The Iraq comment was totally uncalled for. I shouldn't be making light of Iraq because I know better. And I shouldn't be slamming you. If it's not Stefan's fault, it's even less your fault, Eric. It just happened. There was a crazy lady living here and what she did was no one's fault."

She resumed examining her hands and nails. I continued to just stare at her. I wasn't sure an apology was sufficient to take the sting out of the fact that I was sure she really meant part of what she said- that she felt unsafe. Could I blame her after what happened? Could I really keep her safe at all, I wondered? I struggled not to feel quite angry.

"What would you like to eat?" said Pam finally, since I didn't reply.

"I guess whatever they're having downstairs. I remember smelling cooking food."

"You have no preferences?"

"Is it really safe to eat the food?"

Pam hesitated and tipped her head at a slight angle, thoughtfully. _The food?_ I thought to myself. Could someone actual get to her food? Would anyone go that far?

"This is just silly," Sookie said. "I'm going to call Amelia and ask her if she can meet me somewhere. I'll just go out to get something. It's only what? 9 or 9:30 pm? If Amelia can't go then we can get one of Bennett Tucker's Weres, right?" She rose and looked at me. "Can I get my phone? And my purse?"

No, what this was is wholly unacceptable. I didn't want her going out just to eat meals. I didn't want her getting Weres to go with her at night since it was offensive to me, considering her statements made that night long ago in Merlottes. I was not getting Weres to guard her because she was not safe _in my own building_. The daytime was one thing, but not at night. I wanted her safe, here, where we lived, where I wanted _her_ to live. I glanced over at Pam.

"I'll be a few minutes late."

I took her hand and pulled her downstairs with me, which seemed to catch her off-guard. I went through the dormitory side of the first floor until I came to Sheila's door. I opened it without even knocking, disturbing Andor, who was feeding. In Norse I said,

"I want to tell them there will be heavier consequences if anything happens to her again. Now she and Pam are afraid it could even be unsafe for her to simply eat the food. That isn't acceptable."

Andor sealed up the woman's neck, lifted her off his lap and tossed her shirt to her.

"Well, we can scare them more if you want. Pam says Ruben thinks the rest are okay. But sure, we'll have a go at really scaring them. Is she feeling better?"

"Yes. I won't have her afraid to live here and come downstairs to eat."

"Of course. And she's thin as it is. You need to be sure she eats. So let's really scare them, Eric. It can be like old times... Always good to give them a reminder of what we really are, right?"

I wasn't too sure how I felt about that. Having people afraid while living here was a double-edged sword. It might be counterproductive. And it was a shift back to the image the AVL wanted us to avoid. As it was, what had happened to the McCann woman could cause problems. Still…

Wiping his lips, Andor rose from the woman's bed, telling her in English "You must come."

We went back toward the dining area and I pulled out a chair for her and gestured that she should sit.

"Where is Andor from, Eric?" she asked, seemingly out of the blue.

I paced while we waited.

"Stavanger. In Norway. We had the same sire. He is about ten years younger."

She looked at me oddly, as if quite surprised.

"What, one big, tall blond guy just wasn't enough for him? Geez."

I turned to look at her snorted with laughter. Enough? What was ever enough for Ocella?

"You have no idea," I said, bitterly. I'd have to find time to tell her about Stefan and Cadel and the half dozen others that I still knew were roaming around. But I had the best of the lot with the three working here with me, I thought to myself.

I was back to business in short order however, as the residents began to fill the dining room. Andor pushed the last two into the room. I crossed my arms and offered up my best threats.

"This is my wife. And just to drive home the point of what I told you earlier, let me make things even simpler for you. If a single one of you is responsible for any harm to her, I'll kill the whole lot of you. _Every single one of you._ And I won't be quick about it, either. So you should have a vested interest in making sure she is safe and keeping me, and those who serve me, happy. If you don't like it, leave. There are plenty to replace you. Now all of you get out. Except for Ruben."

She had that well trained poker faced expression in evidence but I could feel her agitation in response to my threats. It felt like chilled apprehension. It was a delicate trade-off, this balancing game between frightening them and protecting but not frightening her.

Andor brought Ruben over, a little too roughly for my taste. He looked very frightened now, something about which I felt bad. I liked Ruben. He _had_ liked us. I tried to soften my tone. He'd had enough of Pam's blood in the past six months for us to be absolutely sure of his intentions and inclinations. He meant us no harm and if anything bought us a measure of safety. I should have better heeded Pam's warning, through Ruben, about the McCann woman. But I needed to be sure that he was sure of _his role_ in keeping Sookie safe.

"Ruben, you will make whatever the lady wants for meals at least twice a day. If there is anything wrong with her food, I will hold you personally responsible. Do you understand?"

He blanched. Clearly he hadn't thought of it, either, until now. "Yes, Mr. Northman."

I glanced down at Sookie to see that she was, if anything, even more agitated. The poker face was a mask that was barely holding up at this point. I had better stop before it was gone entirely.

I signaled that Ruben should return to the kitchen and then turned to Andor and told Andor that he was to stay with her while she ate, take her to Pam's office when she finished and then join me. Then I offered her my hand, to rise from her seat.

"Andor will stay with you while you eat and then take you back upstairs to wait in Pam's office. We'll be busy for a while, perhaps only another hour or two for Pam. I'll send Pam to get you something to read while you wait. Just rest while you wait for us, Lover."

She tentatively took my hand to rise and then released it. I could feel that I had deeply unsettled her. With an internal sigh, I thought to myself that perhaps, as flippant as he was at times, Cadel had been absolutely right even if they handled the business badly. Killing Charlotte McCann might have been a disaster. If she had trouble with my making a few threats, what would she have said if the woman _had_ been killed, presumably on my orders or Pam's? Could she even see the difference between threats and actions, I wondered? Although, I admitted to myself that there had been many times in which there had been no difference at all. I was not given to making threats lightly. The issue was whether I'd carry them out _as specified_. Certainly, ten years ago Charlotte McCann might have killed without even a thought by any vampire in the building for having attacked a partner. Even tonight she might have been. Pam, for all Sookie's attachment to her, I thought to myself, was far more ruthless than I could be about some things. She would have killed Charlotte without even a second thought. Out of anger over her harming Sookie, and out of a desire to keep such people well away from me. I was very sure that Sookie did not see that point, however.

I stroked her neck and said in a soft voice,

"We'll talk later, Lover."

She flinched ever so slightly at my touch. I closed my eyes briefly as I felt it, but just kissed her forehead anyway, before departing.

Later in the night I initially thought everything was fine after all. She was relaxed with Pam, although I got the feeling that they'd had yet another argument or at the very least a heated discussion based on Pam's initial manner when I entered. But whatever had passed between them, she seemed fine with it. She agreed to help me with the project manager meeting so easily it surprised me. She tried to extract from me a promise for the safety of the people downstairs for her help. I talked about options to deal with anyone downstairs if they threatened her again. I wasn't sure she believed me however. How, I wondered, could I explain the evolving morals of a thousand years of vampire existence? That I was neither as good nor as bad as she believed me to be at various moments, I thought to myself as I watched her chatting with Pam.

She had made plans to come back the following month, although I was sure they were made before she was attacked. But she appeared to be sticking to her plan and further, she wanted to see her brother and Merlotte and made a point of saying she would put them up here in New Orleans rather than taking time to go to Bon Temps or meeting them elsewhere for the sake of maintaining her identity as Sasha. After we left Pam's office, she pointedly sat next to Rasul for a time downstairs, watching TV along with Andor. But once we were upstairs, it was obvious that she was more than just unsettled. As I helped her undress she shivered and it wasn't with pleasure.

"You are still unsettled," I said, acknowledging what I hadn't said until now.

"What you said frightened me. It frightened me from a moral standpoint and it frightens me because I work for the Justice Department, Eric. You threatened to commit murder. Mass murder. Because of me."

"To protect you."

"Well, I'm not comfortable with that. Not at all." And she looked like she meant it.

"I already told you exactly what I'd do Sookie. And I can assure you that I'm one of the most reasonable of my kind that you are ever going to meet. I care about what's mine, about my people, and only secondarily about some rather sketchily designed laws. If someone has intended to harm you, seriously harm you, they are open fare. What I said is a guarantee for your safety. You should be pragmatic enough to realize that by now. My way of doing business has been successful for centuries. I think you should trust me to know what I'm doing and how I do it."

She was very tense. I turned her around and raised her face to look me in the eyes. She didn't exactly avert her eyes but she wasn't eager to look into mine at all. I saw the glow of my eyes reflected in hers. It was dim in the bedroom. I wanted her to see me. _See me clearly_. I pulled her closer to the nightstand and turned on the light. I held her jaw in my hand. She swallowed but still didn't really look me in the eyes. I saw her eyes tracing my fangs, however.

"So in the end, there _is_ an issue with my being a vampire, isn't there? I frighten you? Repel you? Do you think I would do what I said to those people downstairs? Yes or no?" I couldn't help sounding harsh as I said it. I felt as if I _did _repel her.

Her pulse increased and her breathing shifted, but even so, she looked me directly in the eyes.

"Do I think you have the _ability_ to do that? Yes. Of course, you're a vampire. Do I think you'd really _do_ something like that?" She drew a short breath, almost like a gasp. "No. I just...No, Eric. I just can't believe that the same person I know, who can be so gentle would be capable of doing that. It would be so wrong and totally unfair and unjust. I... " her head shook gently, "No… I meant what I said yesterday. And I still think it's true. You're a good person. Being a vampire doesn't _make you_ a bad person."

Being a vampire didn't make you a bad person? Perhaps in the sense that your choices, rather than what you are, can make you bad. But being a vampire certainly could incline you to making 'bad' choices. For sure, I was more comfortable having her not see some aspects of our lives, _my_ life, _my_ choices. She already took a dark view of my having turned Pam, I could tell, even though she acknowledged that Pam was quite happy to be a vampire. I had done things… long enough ago, perhaps, but still… I'd rather not think about that with her looking up at me. She loved me. Loved me as I was _now_.

I thought of the conversation I'd overheard the other evening. When she was speaking with her friend from work, the conversation I hadn't liked. She discussed the Dostoyevsky book with him. I hadn't like the tenor of the entire conversation. Their easy affection and familiarity had really struck me. But something she said came back to me. How had she phrased it? Love could redeem you but not absolve you. A charming assessment. She still hadn't a clue about the underlying irony of my giving her that book, I thought to myself.

She reached up and stroked my cheek. I caught her hand and kissed her palm. I _wanted_ her to believe I was 'good'. And I was, I suppose, just as I'd said. I was 'good' for my kind. She would know this if she could see the things that I had seen. And yet, I didn't _want _her to have to see anything for comparison purposes. Andor, Cadel, Stefan and I had seen terrible things. I had tried often to insulate Pam from such things. In more than a thousand years, I had seen… almost too much for a person to still care. But I did still care. I was not cruel. And I tried not to let violence rule me. I believed in honor and loyalty. I believed it was possible to be decent, moral. But was that enough? What was goodness, really? And what was goodness enough _for her_?

I tried to brush these thoughts aside. She loved me as I was now. _This_, I had to maintain.

I sighed heavily, looking down at her. I might not often get physically tired but the entire business of this relationship was mentally exhausting. She was such a challenge. In this, she had been correct the other evening. But I liked the challenge.

"You're such trouble, Lover. A _lot_ of trouble," I laughed softly. "But I've always loved trouble." Cadel had been right on that one, too, I thought bemusedly. I kissed her and then sighed. "Let's go to bed. It's late."

She seemed to understand my weariness. We lay propped up in bed, reading until close to dawn. I held her hand as I slowly worked my way through _Der Zauberberg_. Life, death, time. All the essentials? No real love.

Even a decade ago I would have been aghast at the idea of a vampire loving a human. Or really, admitting love for anyone. A declaration of weakness? Perhaps, really, a declaration of strength even if it seemed to make you more vulnerable.

This wasn't as I had envisioned it. It was harder. But I supposed that to her, it was probably harder still. I tried to hold onto that thought.


	10. Chapter 10

**X.**

It was a gamble. But I could capitalize on the momentum this way. Everything I had seen, from the moment that I had reintroduced myself into her life, told me that she would not harm me. That she loved me. That she wished to pose no risk to me. Now, even less so than that night in May when, looking back and seeing- skilled and really trained to fight according to Andor's trustworthy appraisal- she really _could_ have shot me fifteen times and tried to get out of her building.

It was still a gamble.

I woke early. I could feel that the sun had not yet set, even without looking at the clock she'd put on the nightstand. I sighed. She was not in the bed, though I could smell her, hear her, nearby. I rose from the bed and ran my fingers through my hair. I was hungry, horny, craving her warmth. I stood in the shadowed side of the doorway and looked out at her. She was sorting books, listening to music on her iPod, moving as if she was dancing, even though she was sitting on the floor. She was wearing one of my t-shirts. I enjoyed the way she moved. She had always been a good dancer. Her hair was up. I was almost used to the color at this point. One less thing for Pam to joke about if I was used to it, even though I missed her having the blonde hair. I watched her sway to the music, savoring the whiteness of her throat and thighs, the full curves of her breasts swaying under the shirt. I felt my eyes start to glow with desire. I was hungry for her.

As I moved through the door she was startled.

"You speak too many languages." She said with a smile, removing her headphones. "I don't even know what to do with some of these. I guess they're fiction because there in here but really, who knows. Well, I mean, _you_ know. But I'm totally lost from here on," she said pointing to the right half of her stacks.

"Is there a reason why you're doing this?" I asked with a chuckle. There were books everywhere on the floor.

"It was fun, until I started feeling ignorant because I don't speak German or Swedish or French or gosh knows what this one is- there are so many vowels I can't even imagine what it must sound like."

I looked at the Kilpi novel. "Suomi. That's Finnish and I barely can read any of it myself. An experiment. A partial success. Norwegian is much easier."

I could be patient, I thought to myself. In spite of my hunger. I smiled softly at her as I handed the book back to her and went back inside to get my robe. I sat down next to her and then laughed at just how big my t-shirt looked on her. I kissed her and started sorting.

"Spanish music?" I asked, nodding toward the iPod.

"Yeah. I'm missing dancing a bit. Sammy sent me an email yesterday saying his temporary partner is horrible. He's such a card. We've danced together for about a year and it's hard to adjust to a new partner. He's trying to make me feel guilty for dumping him for a vacation instead of work. But it didn't work."

"So you like Latin dancing now, right? Like the tango?" She'd left the iPod playing and it sounded like tango music.

"MmmHmm. Do you tango?" she asked with a teasing smile.

"I haven't done much of that kind of dancing."

We chatted on for a while about dancing, and her dance partner, her friends. She seemed surprised that I asked about her friends. She described a deep sense of not fitting in that she and her two work friends shared.

"Do they know what happened to you?" I asked quietly as I tossed a book over toward the other bookcases.

"They know something bad happened to me. Alla saw my remaining scars, before the surgeries. She was very upset by it but said nothing. I knew from reading Ahmed that Alla told him I'd been tortured. He was very deeply shocked. They can tell I don't want to talk about it and they've never asked. I guess it was meaningful for both of them as to why I was willing to do what we're doing. Not that I know of any US interrogation treatment that was that bad, okay? Anyway, it seems like Ahmed specifically told Sammy not to ask me any personal questions about anything physical. Sammy used to ask why I stay covered so much, you know, the way I dress. Ahmed was all over him for it."

I was actually glad to finally have her raise the subject of her scars on her own.

"Sookie, the scars hardly show at all. You realize that, don't you? If _I_ can hardly see most of them, to everyone else they would be…"

"My worst scars don't show at all, Eric. And lately, I'm thinking a few of those may even have been self-inflicted. But anyway, I don't want to talk about that. We should go dancing sometime. Or maybe just dance here."

It was still too difficult for her to speak of it more than a little bit, even now, evidently. I hesitated about whether to press on. I decided against it and followed her lead with the subject change.

"Speaking of Rhodes and dancing, Sean and Layla O'Rourke are going to stay here in August. I think they'll be here when you're here. They are doing a series of appearances and taking some vacation time," I said.

"They're really great dancers," she replied. "Did they marry? I thought she had a different last name?"

I handed her _Peer Gynt_.

"They did. Several years ago. Ibsen's Norwegian, not Swedish. I'm glad you have made plans to come back for the next few months, Lover. Any reply from your boss?" I tried to ask casually.

"Gee, don't know how I missed that on the Norwegian thing," she said with a wry look. "Well, about the glamouring issue, Manny said he would speak to me in person rather than in writing, so I guess that's a go. He must have found someone or know of someone. Maybe they already had planned it or something. Probably NSA. The CIA wouldn't be too helpful unless Chuck was asking. I don't think that Manny wants Chuck too involved at this point. Chuck is… difficult. And personnel hasn't commented on the vacation request, which means it's pretty much approved, I guess. They'd say no right away if it was no. It's paid time off, so really they can't do too much about it. So anyway, I guess it's set."

Well, the vacation plans carried us through September I noted, wondering again about _after_ September but not willing to start arguing about the issue again so soon. I kept sorting through the books. It was all a jumble, the way they'd packed them. Really annoying. Fiction, nonfiction. A real mess. I thought briefly about the previous evening again. Without looking at her, I asked,

"Yesterday evening has not put you off coming back, then?"

"No," she replied quietly. I noticed her tense slightly, however.

"So you are happy?"

She glanced at me with one of those unsure smiles of hers. Like she didn't take my meaning exactly.

"Yeah, I guess I'm happy. Why?" She reached over and turned off the iPod.

I kept sorting with the books and said, "I want you to be happy." I paused for a moment and decided to just take the gamble. "There is a way to lessen the bond. If it still is objectionable to you, I would do it if you wish it."

"What do you mean, lessen it. How?" She looked… curious.

"Lessen the intensity of it. If I had Andor drain me, and then…"

She gasped at me open-mouthed. _Excellent_.

"_What?_ No," she said, quickly cutting me off. "No, absolutely no. Are you _nuts_? Enough with the frigging bond already, Eric. Leave it alone. I'm fine. I don't give a damn about the bond. How could you even _consider_ such a thing?"

Her eyes were wide with alarm. I made no attempt whatsoever to disguise my growing pleasure over her response. It only seemed to annoy her when she caught me with that tactic with her, anyway.

"You don't like the bond. You never did. This would weaken it."

"And weaken you! No matter how much I disliked it I would never want you to do something like that. Geez, Eric." She really looked appalled.

"I don't want to give you any reason to…"

She cut me off again. "Look, I'm _over_ it, okay? It's _fine_. We are fine the way we are. And even if Andor is your most trusted friend for the past millennium, he's not getting a fang into you on my account, are we clear, Eric? Absolutely _no_."

"I would be recovered just by taking sufficient blood in return, along with perhaps some of Stefan's or Cadel's. Just not from anyone who has had my blood in the past. I trust Andor completely. He's had my blood many times, and I his." About a thousand years ago, of course, but still… I tried to imagine even making such a request of Andor and what his response would be. Now _there_ would be an interesting fight. We'd seen someone do this long ago and it had taken the vampire several years to recover. It prevented the human from feeling you but you still felt them, and could still control them more readily. But it was certainly quite risky, as methods go.

"I don't _care_. I don't care to hear about it. It would make you weaker for having lost the blood at all. So _no_. I'm almost used to it at this point, anyway. Leave the bond the way it is. Unless you want to get rid of it or weaken it for some personal reason, like what you described before, the problem _you_ have with the bond. Then it's your business alone. But you don't you dare do anything on account of me, Eric. Especially not anything that sounds so damn crazy. Geez, I swear I don't even know why Pam doesn't want to kill me herself behind your back. Because I'm beginning to see exactly what she means," she muttered the last part, shaking her head with her eyes closed.

So they _had_ argued, I noted to myself. And she was _used to_ the bond. Perhaps she was even learning to like it, after all?

She turned to me and looked me straight in the eyes.

"Promise me, Eric. _Promise me."_

I looked back at the books and still didn't even try to conceal my smile or my pleasure at her response. A carefully calculated risk that had paid off nicely, I thought to myself. This was what _I_ wanted and I had succeeded in getting _her_ to want it as well. She glanced down and I felt this odd sensation from her.

"Of course, my Lover. As you wish," was all I replied. I really had to contain myself.

Suddenly she seemed to take in that she had just given me exactly what I wanted. I looked over at her quickly, probingly. She seemed somewhat guarded. What she did _not_ look, however, was unhappy with the situation, a point which made me even happier.

She seemed lost in thought for a few minutes as we worked through the books. I began to feel that odd resignation of hers again, only this time it didn't seem as if she was feeling quite so bad about giving in to me as she had the other times. She handed me a book and I looked at her intently. She didn't really meet my eyes but she had an odd look on her face. Perhaps she could learn to enjoy yielding, I thought amusedly? Because I was certainly enjoying getting what I wanted. In spite of my immense pleasure, I was silent, not wanting to do anything to press my luck. Eventually, we were done with the shelving. I just sat next to her and she put her head on my shoulder, then kissed me. I picked her up and carried her back to the bed.

That night I also got her to admit, even if reluctantly, that she was mine. She said I had her heart, but then finally relented and admitted that I had _her. _It had been a good week, in spite of the arguments and the various misadventures. She had come back to Louisiana. She told me she loved me. She stayed with me after only a single day in a hotel. She accepted the bond. She was coming back for the next three months for a week each month. She admitted that she was mine. She had helped me with the problem project manager. And I had accomplished this without the ability to glamour, merely by telling her I loved her. I smiled to think that I had also accomplished most of what I had told her I wanted on the risqué list. She seemed very interested in the list at present. And we still had another week, I thought with a smile. We could work on all the things on that list many times over. I couldn't envision getting weary of any of it, or her, any time in the next century or so.

She fell asleep as I awaited the dawn and enjoyed the moment.

All I all, I was very pleased. Getting my way with her was really so enjoyable.


	11. Chapter 11

**XI.**

When she visited in July she was more at ease. She enjoyed seeing her brother and Merlotte. She went with Pam for target practice and shopping trips. They spent as much time together as Pam could get away with. Several afternoons she visited Amelia. I asked her to marry me again before she left and she still said no, although she was almost polite about it. She already had dates planned out for her visits in August and September. The entire visit was much easier and she seemed quite happy to be visiting. I enjoyed waking to her warmth next to me, our conversations at dusk and dawn. I was not happy when the week was over, but now we had our less guarded conversations by Skype twice a day to help carry us through the weeks apart.

But then there was August. The argument in August was the worst we'd ever had. We had been so happy before we'd slept. I'd asked again about getting married legally and this time, she actually said she'd think about it. But then when we rose in the evening, I asked about her vacation time in September. She would be out of vacation days after September. _What then?_ was the unspoken question. The discussion had quickly devolved into a bitter argument. What would we do in October, November and the months that followed? She'd asked for unpaid leave, but the request was still pending. What if it was denied? I asked her flat out when she was going to quit her job and just come home. Her bitter response of 'When I'm good and ready and _not one minute before!_' left me so angry. And she could get so very angry herself. I really hesitated to imagine what she would be like the first few decades if she ever let herself be turned. Her temper was really something to behold when she finally lost it.

She was already tired from long trips to Pakistan and Afghanistan when she had arrived. The situation in both countries was, from what I could see in the news, deteriorating steadily. She had gotten to the point that she refused to discuss much with me about her trips. Ever since I found out what the job really entailed, I was unhappy every time she traveled, although she had gone to Turkey and Spain in July and at least those were safe trips. But they kept sending her to Pakistan and Afghanistan. When she was going to travel she now told me _where_ she was going, but that was it, even after she was back. She would email me several times a day if she was somewhere that made Skyping a challenge. Mostly just brief emails to let me know she was fine. I still had trouble accepting it.

The evening we fought we were both so angry and frustrated. She told me that I didn't understand her and, especially, that I was entirely too controlling. That I 'had better cut it out'. That she could 'never envision living with such a controlling person'. At that, I shouted at her that she had better _start_ envisioning it and she actually told me to get out. When I pointed out that she was telling me to get out of my own rooms, she said the choice was that I could 'get out of her face' for a while or that she could go to a hotel and then we'd have even _more_ to argue about. I went downstairs to my office and worked. It seemed, based on their manner, that the entire third floor had heard us arguing. I had the wonderful experience of being angry at her and then angry at everyone else who knew about our arguing. Thankfully, there were only a few of us living on the third floor. My inner circle. Still, I could barely tolerate the look that Andor gave me, since he appeared to think I had some means of just forcing her to bend to my will and wasn't using it. Pam, Cadel, Stefan and Markus tried to avoid me entirely, as much as they could. Pam started to say something at one point about not getting her so angry about her work and I gave her a look that literally made her back out of my office door.

When I went back upstairs I found her curled up in the armchair I'd put into the library for her. The reading lamp was still on, her book, _Tender is the Night_, had fallen from her hands. Her iPod was still playing. I picked it up to pause the music and found it scrolling through photos in a slideshow. I carefully removed the headphones and she barely stirred. I looked at the photos and was taken aback. She had never shown them to me before. Photos of her from all over the world, with short funny captions detailing Sundays spent sailing in Chesapeake Bay, or visits to bookstores and museums in Madrid, Amsterdam, Berlin, London, Washington DC, and New York City. Days working in Afghanistan, Iraq, Morocco, Israel, Egypt, Guantánamo, Cuba, the Netherlands, Germany, England, Spain and on and on. Nights going out with local contacts, or having simple meals in what looked like tents, or even in a few photos near open fire pits. A recent photograph, dated the 14th of August according to the caption, showed her with children in front of a ramshackle building in a village in Pakistan. I realized must be one of the schools to which she'd committed some of Niall Brigant's money, now hers, for rebuilding. She hadn't even mentioned the visit?

Looking at the photos I was stunned. It was like a window into another world, another Sookie Stackhouse. Of course, I realized, Sasha Gordon _was_ another Sookie Stackhouse, quite literally. But it drove home the fact that, in contrast to what I had told myself all along, she really did have this whole other life. A life I had never asked to see and had only asked about on occasion, in order to get to something or someplace I wanted. A life that in the pictures looked surprisingly happy, in contrast to everything I believed, and in contrast to what I had seen and felt when I had visited Virginia in October and May and seen her when she was all alone. She was smiling, laughing, many images of the images appearing to be 'candid' photos. Her work, it seemed, had made her far happier than I had thought. Happier than I wanted to believe or acknowledge. I reflected on her saying that if she didn't work she would go insane. That I simply didn't understand her.

I listened to the music she had playing with the photos and was further taken aback. It was from a playlist called _Always Remember_. There was a single song, which was on infinite loop. _Don't Lose Yourself._ I listened to it as I looked at the photos. It initially sounded like an upbeat, almost happy song. One phrase in particular caught my attention, because I'd seen it as the bannered screensaver on her laptop, which she'd brought for the last two trips. "_Necessity Conquers Fear_…" And the lyrics? The refrain '_Don't lose yourself, don't let yourself be lost…'_ repeated again and again, almost like a mantra.

I looked at her for several minutes, while listening to the repeating music, even after I was done looking at over a hundred photos. I sighed heavily. I turned off the iPod, set it aside and then picked her up to carry her to bed. Sleepy as she was, in spite of our earlier argument, she shifted herself right against me when I got into the bed. Instead of reading, I just lay there with her, awaiting the dawn.

_Don't lose yourself, don't let yourself be lost…_ I thought to myself. This is what she thinks of, what she listens to, when we argue about her moving back here. She had been afraid to come back, to reinvolve herself with me. I remembered her comments in June about her hating herself for coming back and risking making herself even more unhappy. The job had made her feel useful, happy. It had helped her survive. And I was asking her to give it all up, even shouting at her to do so.

_Don't lose yourself, don't let yourself be lost…_

No matter how full of myself I could be at times, the meaning wasn't lost on me.

* * *

Playlist note: _Don't Lose Yourself_ by Laura Veirs


	12. Chapter 12

**XII.**

'_Embassies don't make you safe. They're actually a great target….'_ she had said with a cool tone that night in June. Yet month after month her work had taken her there to this embassy. The embassy at which I hoped she wasn't going to die.

As I sat watching the TV I remembered every argument we'd had about her job, and about her moving back to Louisiana. I remembered resolving in August to argue less about those two things. I would be silent, rather than argue, no matter how much I wanted to argue and get her to do what I want. Most of all, I remembered the Skype conversation we'd had the day before she'd left, when I asked her if she'd thought more about whether she'd marry me legally. I hadn't asked since that August night when she'd said she would think about it. We'd argued terribly the following day and I finally began to understand that I would never get anywhere by fighting with her on the topic of quitting the job or moving back, let alone getting married. I decided to 'give her more space', as she liked to put it. I had gritted my teeth and decided to try it her way for a time. To be patient.

She had been in such a playful mood when we'd spoken only four nights ago. So I finally asked her again, after a month of silence on the topic.

"Have you thought more about the second thing?"

She paused and looked at me with a smile.

"Yeah, I've thought about it. I dunno. I'm thinking it might be a plan."

"Is that a yes or a no answer?"

"No."

"So you're still saying 'no'?"

"Nope. I'm saying it's not a yes or a no answer. 'It might be a plan' is not an answer to the question," she said giving me a mischievous look.

"You're planning to keep this up?" I'd said with a sigh.

"Give me another week. I'll be there next week, and we should talk in person about such an important thing, right?"

"So then you'll say yes when you're here?" I tried not to sound too expectant.

"Might be. You might get what you want. Imagine that. Eric Northman getting what he wants. What an _unexpected_ thing…" She laughed and then said, "But we would definitely need to talk about stuff."

"What 'stuff'?"

"_La_ter, my Liege," she said with a very wry look. "Like _when I'm there_. It's only a week, Eric. Actually, really, less. So, just relax. You know, you should see the email Pam sent me tonight. It has fashion, music and book suggestions and comments about all the goings on there, intercut with accusations that I'm a bad friend because I changed my dates for the September visit and 'let her down'. Plus various demands. 'Compensations' she calls them. She's a riot. Since she always says _I'm_ so amusing, I'm telling you she is the most amusing friend ever. Feel free to tell her I said so. It would be worth it to marry you just to have her as family. Although, I'd have to admit, there are a couple of other excellent reasons I can think of, having nothing to do with Pam, that also might make it pretty worthwhile." She'd smiled flirtatiously at the camera. Then the cat jumped in her lap and the moment was lost.

Now I was watching her on a roof, halfway around the world, shooting at people who were shooting at her. I wondered if once again I'd made a major miscalculation by just letting her do as she pleased. Not putting my foot down, or arguing with her more. Giving her her precious space. All I could think about was leaving her alone that night in Bon Temps and that then the fairies got her and it was a miracle that she survived. The Taliban weren't fairies. But it looked as if they could kill just about as efficiently.

I had wanted her to be free to choose, not to control her. That was so important to her. The only way to make her feel safe, secure in her choices. The only way, I thought, to guarantee that she _would _choose. That had been important to me. I had wanted her to _choose_ to come home, to marry me. I was certain that she would. And it had seemed like we were just a few short days from those choices becoming reality. There was such a difference between pride in having her make the decision to be with me, and the vampire-borne pride in being able to control someone. But now, looking at her refusing to get into a helicopter before everyone was out of that building, I wondered if maybe the distinction hadn't been as important as just keeping her safe might have been.

The inane song filtered through my mind as I watched missiles destroy the embassy within what seemed to be mere seconds of their helicopter pulling off that roof. But the words that hung in my mind were not the ones that had bothered me before. No, they were the ones that she had bannered on her laptop. She certainly seemed to believe in them.

_Necessity conquers fear…_

It was really a great motto. If it didn't get you killed.


	13. Chapter 13

**XIII.**

After enduring the insulting manner of the hospital staff with as pleasant a demeanor as I could muster, and having to gain the 'approval' of her boss, Manny Diaz, to see my own wife, we waited on the roof for the Medevac helicopter. I seriously had almost gotten to the point where I felt like glamouring everyone we encountered if they caused us any more trouble. When she was carried out on the stretcher, and placed on the gurney it was a sight to behold. She was extremely ashen, had multiple IV lines, was on a portable respirator, a portable pacemaker, and looked half dead, frankly. The small, weary, very bruised, dark haired woman who came out after her was clearly her friend Alla but I was quite surprised by the tall man who walked next to the stretcher, who called out to me. Ahmed was very different from what I had envisioned. Somehow, I had mistakenly envisioned another Rasul. The man holding onto to my wife's hand was almost as tall as I was, dark, slender, moved elegantly and was more than good looking enough to be in films even though he had a bruise on his cheek and a healing cut on his lip. _This _was her best friend? My mind flashed back to an overheard conversation in June.

"Good night, sweet prince," said with a chuckle.

"Gag me, Sasha."

"Oh, you'll have to get someone else to do that. Sounds kinky, and I'm not even your type."

Laughter…

"Good night for real," she'd said.

"Ciao, Bella."

He smiled at me when he saw us and extended his hand.

"You must be Eric," he said nodding, while looking me over with an appraising eye.

I stared at him, at his hand, and then nodded. He looked at me awkwardly and then let go of her hand as they wheeled her ahead of us. We walked inside, toward the elevators. Alla turned to him, after giving me an curious and slightly disapproving look, and said in a low tone of voice,

"They don't shake hands. Remember, Ahmed? She told us that."

He glanced over at me, then at Andor and Markus. "Of course. Forgive the lack of polish," he said with a cool British accent that bespoke privilege. He nodded again at me with a curious smile, and also at Andor and Markus, though he had not been introduced. I remembered Sookie having told me he was the one who got her into reading real literature. That he'd gone to Eton, Oxford, and Harvard. I didn't know who he really was, but he was _not _just some FBI guy from the look of him.

Once she was in a room, the powers that be graciously let me see my wife, under a watchful eye. Looking at her pallor, I knew I couldn't risk giving her as much blood as she'd need. They had already hung a bag of whole blood. She would need much more before I could do anything to help her, and I clearly couldn't just spirit her away to Ludwig. We'd have to wait it out.

It was almost dawn and I could hear Andor and Markus getting agitated. After kissing her hand, I went back outside to see Ahmed and her boss chatting. His arms were bandaged and in the harsher light of the halls he looked pretty banged up. Very bad body language between the two, I noted. Alla was sitting in a chair and speaking to someone from a landline phone. They all turned to look at me.

"I am going to have to leave. I'll be back after sunset. I expect I will be able to stay in the room with her, yes?" I asked looking directly at her boss, Manny Diaz.

He met my eyes warily then glanced away but nodded. Evidently word of my powers of glamouring had preceded my arrival.

"With either of my men. Andor Fetsen or Markus Kam," I said further.

He nodded cautiously. So I just nodded to them and the three of us practically vanished in order to get back to our resting place in time. I was pleased that Andor did not utter a single word of complaint.

When I came back to the hospital the following evening, Ahmed was there with her. I paused, silently in the doorway and watched him. A nurse had just done something with her IV line and adjusted an oxygen line around her nose. At least the respirator and the pacemaker were gone. I watched as he gently lifted her head and rearranged her hair, then placed her head back on the pillow. I watched him pick up her hand in his, kiss it, and then he sat back down next to her, picked up a book on the side of the bed and began to read aloud from what I was very sure was Austen. It sounded like _Mansfield Park_, I thought to myself. She hadn't read that one yet, I knew.

She shifted in the bed slightly, as if she was uncomfortable, even though she was still unconscious. He rose, put down the book and leaned over her, adjusting her IV line around her arm and then shifting the pillow slightly. After glancing up at the IV bags, he sat down, took up the book and resumed reading aloud.

He _loves_ her, I thought to myself, stunned.

Turning back to Andor and Markus, I just nodded and gestured that they could wait back in the waiting area.

I walked into the room and sat down across from him.

**

* * *

**

"Eric, when I move back, would you mind if I lived on my own?" she said quietly.

What? _What? _I simply stared at her. She wanted to move back, but not live with me? I snapped my fingers and signaled to Markus to leave and waited until he did so.

"Why would you suggest such a thing to me? Especially in front of Markus?"

"You just discussed asking me to marry you in front of Markus. You asked me about reading you. In front of Markus. That's all okay but my asking a question isn't? What's the deal?"

I just felt my anger boil over. Almost losing her, being here all these days, a risk in and of itself to my position, enduring the disdain of the hospital staff and the FBI, the pain in the ass supposedly gay friend and now she was saying she would not even _live with me_? What was she playing at? Hinting before she left that everything was working out as I wished and now _this_? Did it look to her as if that was what I would wish? Did she have any idea how it had looked that she had been missing for more than three years, had come back, wouldn't stay with me, finally did stay with me and then proceeded to go back to her life, month after month, all as if it was nothing? How difficult it was in the eyes of vampires to think that I had married a human that would proceed to behave this way? No matter how accepting _I_ was of it, my life was much more public now. I was judged and measured by what I tolerated. And now she said this in front of Markus? I was at the end of my patience.

I practically hissed at her as I said,

"I have been here for five nights watching over you and you're telling me that you want to move back to Louisiana to live on your own? You are trying my patience and tolerance to an extreme. I let you have your way, the freedom to do your horrible job, take all the crap you have put me, put us, through while you try to figure things out. I have turned my life inside out for you for years now, while you slapped me with attitude and coldness time and again. I thought we finally were past that. And now you'll try it in front of subordinates? Well, there _is_ a limit to what I'll take from you and you're rapidly approaching it."

Her eyes wide, she looked at me as if shocked, as if I didn't understand what she'd meant at all and now she didn't understand _me_. And she felt… anguish? She was silent, didn't reply. Then, looking at her, feeling her, I just pulled back from being so angry. She'd almost died. She had been in much pain and had been on a lot of drugs. Perhaps I was blaming her unfairly, even if I was very angry at the thought that I could hear Markus telling Andor, out in the hall, what she'd said. Andor's response was very noncommittal but then he'd finally completely reversed his take on Sookie after her little rooftop jaunt in Pakistan, hearing from Pam about how she had saved us in Rhodes, and about her saving me from Sigebert. If there were two things Andor could be relied upon to admire, they were bravery and loyalty. So I swallowed my anger. And yet again, my pride.

"We shouldn't even be having this discussion now. You haven't been well. Just forget it. But no more discussion in front of Markus or even in front of Andor." Set my jaw and continued to try to tamp down my anger.

She looked as if she would cry at any minute. She said, "Eric, I don't mean it the way you think I mean it. It came out wrong. I just… I need the daylight, okay? To look out the windows and see the blue sky or the sunsets. I'll come back home. I'll marry you, if you want to get married. I will. I do see what you've done to be with me. And what you've been through because of me, some of which is so God awful that I still can't stomach it. But how much am I supposed to concede to in order to be with you? Do you ever think about what I'm giving up? Is it even on the radar for you? I'll never be able to talk to you except during the nighttime when there are already all these other demands on your attention and time. Nighttime for other people is family time but it's never going to be that way for me. Ever. There's a whole long list of things that I grew up thinking were just part of a normal everyday relationship that I'm never going to have if I'm with you. That's fine. I can accept it. All the political bullshit that I always just hated, that I'm even afraid of, fine. It's you and it's what you want and who you are. Well, this is me: I want daylight. And I want Rosie. And I have to work. Or I'll literally go insane. I need to live somewhere where I can have those things. I'll give up all the rest. But not those."

She started to cry. I rose and came to sit on the bed. I just couldn't believe we were arguing, if we even really even _were _arguing, over sunlight, a cat, and her desire to keep working. I sighed heavily into my hand, shaking my head.

"Honestly Sookie, sometimes your communication skills just leave me in disbelief. Had it ever occurred to you to tell me any of this, other than the job issue, _before_? Of course, I took it the wrong way. I thought it was just more of the usual. In front of Markus, no less. Sunlight? Your problem is _sunlight_? I can provide sunlight for Pam's orchids but not for you? And how much of my time would you have if you lived elsewhere? I don't even understand how you think of this stuff sometimes."

She completely broke down, crying on me.

"I thought you'd hate me for going back… And I was so worried you could feel it."

Well, I was not very fond of her going back, without question. I just let her cry. _Living on her own?_ How had she even came up with this stuff, I thought to myself? As Pam would say, humans could be _completely_ irrational. Nonsensical, even. How could she even think she would be safe living on her own? Why would we want to be apart? Well, it didn't matter. Because it wasn't happening. But I could be soft and cajoling about it, just as she liked.

"It will all be fine, Lover. I understand your need to work. But remember, if they don't fire you, you promised me you would quit. Whatever the work is, it will be a different job, a _safe_ job and in New Orleans. As for the rest, we'll find a way to make it work. You will have your sunlight, and the cat. Just…" I sighed, heavily, "rest."

After a while she finally calmed down.

Andor came in and leaned against the wall where Markus had been standing. She looked up at him and he smiled and nodded in greeting.

"Be careful fighting with the brave girl," Andor said to me in an amused tone in Swedish.

"Fuck off," I replied in Swedish, shaking my head.

She raised her head off my shoulder, clearly recognizing that we were bickering even though it was in Swedish. Why was Andor speaking even Swedish, anyway? I wondered, looking at him narrow eyed. Did he actually think she knew enough now to understand his little insults?

"What exactly was his comment?"

"Andor's just looking for his one way ticket to Svalbard, Lover."

Andor crossed his arms over his chest. He nodded and, looking extremely full of himself said,

"I told him to be careful fighting with the brave girl," with a snort. "He could get injured." He smirked at me.

She stifled a laugh.

"Asshole," was my reply in Swedish. Andor looked entirely too satisfied with himself. But the tension of the moment with her was dissolved, eased by his joking around.

Markus entered the room with a six pack of True Blood that he'd been graciously permitted to heat in a microwave near the nurses station, in lieu of having us feed on the hospital employees and all the patients. We each drank two and traded insults in Swedish and German as we commented on the wonderful and obliging hospital staff. Markus, normally so reserved, offered suggestions as to who might be most expendable at the nurses station. I stayed sitting on the bed with Sookie, with my arm around her shoulders. A nurse came to check on her and pursed her lips as if she thought about asking one of us to leave. I offered her a dark look and she appeared to think better of it. Eventually, while the three of us chatted and reminisced about old battles and adventures, Sookie fell asleep.

Another full day and she was discharged. We flew home after gathering enough of her things for a longer stay and, of course, her cat. When we arrived back at the compound several hours before dawn, Pam was so relieved that she almost forgot to be sarcastic. She briefly hugged Sookie then promptly asked me if I had enjoyed my _vacation._ She and Stefan, she explained, had been buried in work while Andor, Markus and I had been off 'having fun' in Maryland. Cadel had kept them safe she allowed, but was too bossy, acting like _he_ was left in charge. She asked if, the next time Sookie went and made trouble, I'd take Cadel and leave her Markus. I looked at her and shook my head silently, while she grinned like Lewis Carroll's cat, complete with fangs. She was obviously quite pleased that Sookie was moving back home.

**

* * *

**

Lying in the dark bedroom just before dawn, she reached out and took my hand and sighed a heavy sigh. The cat jumped up on the bed and purring loudly, walked over to her and sat down, leaning against her leg. That would take getting used to, I thought to myself.

"So do you still want to?" she asked quietly.

"Want to what?"

"You know what. Do you?"

"I thought you already said yes, the other day. If you're saying you're changing your mind, I really need a break, Sookie. Just let it rest for a while."

She stretched in the bed and then raised my hand in hers to her lips.

"Well, I don't think it's very nice to accept a proposal of marriage in the middle of an argument. And I was planning to tell you when I visited that I'd already decided to tell them I was quitting, with November 30th as my last day. I was just making plans about how to do it sort of gracefully, or more accurately, in a fashion that they couldn't argue with. But they solved my problem for me. Anyway, I was going to tell you when I came home for the visit that I was quitting. I don't want you to think I quit and that I'm saying yes because of what happened. Because I wasn't. That's what I wanted to talk to you about, what I was referring to, when we spoke before I left. I just didn't know how you'd feel about the thought that I might want to live here in New Orleans but on my own. Though, I guess you don't like that plan very well."

I could have made quite a few remarks about the 'niceness' of some of her prior refusals and the completely unacceptable nature of her 'plan', but I decided it wasn't very expedient to do so. I focused on her acceptance, ignored all the rest of what she was saying and felt a swell of pleasure.

"So your answer is yes?"

She turned on her side, propped her head on her hand and smiled at me.

"Ja, min älskade. Ja."

"Oh, so now you're accepting my proposal _in Swedish_?" I said with a chuckle.

She smiled.

"I can say it in a number of languages. Wanna hear it in Arabic? How about Pashto? Or Farsi? A guy in the embassy tried to teach me some Russian. Spanish? Maybe French? German? I might be able to swing Dutch, but the last time I was at The Hague and tried to say the simplest thing in Dutch they laughed at me. But Stefan said I sounded fine in Swedish. I don't think he knew what I needed to know for, though."

"So this is what you wanted to tell me in person, then. Yes, and your list of terms?"

"Mostly, I wanted to get a good look at your face, so I could take in the full impact of you, getting what you want, as usual. It's always a vision of unparalleled happiness when you get your way with me."

"Can you see me well enough in the dark? How does it look?" I crossed my eyes and laughed.

She laughed too, then yawned and sank back into her pillows and rubbed the healing area on her side. She had mentioned during the flight home that the healing tissue inside bothered her a bit. The outer area had healed very well, though. The skin was almost completely unblemished.

"For once, I'd have to say it doesn't look bad at all, you getting your way. But then, I guess it's because we want the same thing."

"_You_ also want to admit I was so very right? Lover, I'm quite surprised," I said with an eyebrow raised. "That's very generous of you, all things considered. I really thought you'd try to avoid admitting that. It's very mature to admit I was right and you were so _spectacularly_ wrong," I said as I turned on my side and draped my leg over hers, pulling her closer. "Can you make a formal declaration of it, then? Like 'Eric, you've proved me wrong' or maybe just 'Eric, you are so very right about everything'?"

She groaned. "Honestly, Eric, you're so obnoxious at times. Really. Sometimes I think you are the most obnoxious person I have ever met," she said sleepily.

"You're still very young. You haven't met that many people in such a short life. I'm sure there's worse to be had. Somewhere." I chuckled, leaned over and kissed her lips. "Rest, min älskade. Rest and then enjoy waking up at home."

"Whoever said 'home is where your heart is' was really onto something," she murmured with her eyes closed.

"Good thing you gave me your heart, then. To think at the time I thought you were just trying to avoid admitting you're _totally_ mine."

She made a dissatisfied grumble with some rather bad language that I didn't quite get but then shifted closer to me, resting her head on my shoulder and draping her arm around my waist. I rested my chin on her head. She murmured as if soothed and quickly seemed to drift off to sleep.

I smiled.

It was true that I like getting what I want so very much. But I'd long since learned that I really enjoyed it best when what I got was freely given.


End file.
